Insipid
by DragonFang2016
Summary: Insipid (adjective): lacking in qualities that interest, stimulate, or challenge. After he started dating his former employee, Gakuhou Asano's life was anything but. Karasuma doesn't even know why he agreed to go out with the guy, and Gakushuu just wants to finish high school in peace. Rated T for language and sexual themes. (Re-uploaded due to request!)
1. Chapter 1: Antedate

**Antedate** ( _verb_ ): to precede in time; to come before (something) in date.

* * *

The Chairman of Kunugigaoka Academy, Gakuhou Asano, was a logic-driven man.

His thinking was based on pure rationality. Emotions were a mere afterthought. All that mattered was strength, and using that strength to create strong students.

It was always about strength.

However, with the abrupt changes to his life and ideals, it probably shouldn't surprise him that his own way of thinking was shifting. Perhaps his recent defeat in the final exams did some damage to his brain.

Damage was weakness.

That yellow octopus had turned his whole life upside-down, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, he did confirm the credibility of Gakuhou's educational philosophy, and proved to be a worthy adversary as a fellow teacher.

Speaking of fellow teachers… there was one he'd had his eye on since their first meeting. The one who, when he came to mind, somehow made everything _not make sense_.

Nonsensicality… irrationality… emotions… weakness…

That man stirred something inside of Gakuhou Asano that was a horrible amalgamation of those… _things_.

The chairman knew this feeling all too well. It brought back painful memories of college dorms and quiet libraries and hot bodies rubbing against each other in the throes of mindless passion.

He was in love.

Ah, no, that sounded juvenile.

Perhaps _in lust_ was a better way to put it.

Yes, lust. For it wasn't an emotional relationship he wanted to pursue with the object of his interest—it was a carnal, primitive desire to… well… _fuck_. He hadn't actively engaged in any sexual or romantic pursuits with other people in quite a while, and, in all honesty, celibacy was such an insipid thing.

Which drove him to ask the raven-haired man in front of him:

"Karasuma-sensei, would you like to go out with me?"

Tadaomi Karasuma froze in the middle of his monthly report, looking as if he had just been asked to stop a hydrogen bomb with his bare hands. Beside him, his partner, Sonokawa, stared at both men with wide eyes, mouth agape.

"Excuse me?"

Gakuhou chuckled, reclining in his chair and linking his fingers together. "Well, of course, not _now_ —that would be unprofessional, wouldn't it? Perhaps after graduation, if your students manage to kill Korosensei."

There was a moment's hesitation before Karasuma cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said, "but I'm not attracted to men."

 _What a poorly-constructed lie._ Unfortunately for the soldier, Gakuhou was quite skilled when it came to reading body language—he was a teacher, after all—and the signs pointed to dishonesty.

"No?" He tilted his head, feigning disappointment. "My hunches are never wrong."

Karasuma scowled. "Well, this one is."

"I see…"

"Um, I apologize for interrupting, Chairman Asano, but we're getting off track," Sonokawa pointed out, rather awkwardly.

"Oh, of course." He waved his hand. "My apologies. Continue with your report, please."

It took a while for Karasuma to compose himself, but he managed to resume updating Gakuhou on E-Class's progress. There wasn't much to say—the assassination classroom was progressing fairly nicely, although the day that Korosensei was scheduled to blow up was less than three months away.

As the younger man spoke, Gakuhou scrutinized him, as he had done so many times before. Karasuma was definitely handsome. His features were sharp and smooth, radiating professionalism and strength, from his jawline to his eyes. Keeping his military training in mind, the rest of his body was, undoubtedly, just as aesthetically pleasing.

God, he really wanted to fuck him.

When the time came for the two agents to leave, Gakuhou stood.

"I'd like you to stay for a while, Karasuma-sensei. Let's have a little… chat."

Obsidian eyes narrowed suspiciously, but their owner stopped in his tracks, gesturing for Sonokawa to go on without him. The door closed behind her as she exited the room, leaving the two men alone.

Karasuma sighed. "Is this about you wanting to go out with me?"

"Yes," Gakuhou said. "It is. After the end of this school year, when you are no longer my employee, I'd like to ask you out on a date. Would you be willing to accept?"

Karasuma furrowed his brows. "Why?"

Since the man couldn't be bothered to dignify his request with a proper answer, Gakuhou decided to reciprocate the gesture.

"Sex."

It took barely a second for the word to register in the younger man's mind, before his features twisted into an expression of such mortification—so unlike his usual calm demeanor—that Gakuhou couldn't help but chuckle.

" _W-What_?"

" _Sex_. Coitus, copulation, intercourse, lovemaking, etcetera." Teasingly, the redhead loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt, stepping closer. "Perhaps you'd like a demonstration?"

"N-No, thank you."

As he tried to calm himself down, the raven-haired man was turning red, his eyes turned away from Gakuhou—how endearing. And strange. It wasn't like he had breasts or anything, and surely Karasuma had seen other men's _collarbones_ before.

"Was that a no-thank-you to the demonstration or a no-thank-you to me?"

Karasuma crossed his arms over his chest, content to stare at the chandelier. "Both."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," the raven-haired man said with a firm nod, although it felt like he was saying it to himself. "I told you, I'm not into men."

Gakuhou took one more step towards Karasuma, arching an eyebrow.

"You don't find me attractive?" The redhead felt neither shame nor uncertainty in asking the question. He knew that his looks were something to brag about, even at his current age.

The silence that filled the room was heavy and tense.

Then, Gakuhou leaned in, as if meaning to kiss the younger man. He was aware of Karasuma's body, so close to him, so warm and so tense, coiled like a spring, but not a single finger was lifted in protest.

Karasuma tilted his head up, eyes half-lidded and hazy with desire.

So he _did_ want him.

He stopped, barely half a centimeter away from those lips, and pulled back.

Their gazes met again—Gakuhou's was taunting, and Karasuma's was a mix of surprise and disappointment.

He had clearly enjoyed the blatant sexual harassment.

Suddenly, the raven-haired man composed himself, eyebrows drawing together in a frown.

"Excuse me." With a parting nod, he quickly turned around and left the room.

 _What an interesting man._ Gakuhou had hardly expected him to walk away without giving him a definite answer. His words said no, but everything else—his expressions and his body—told a different story. He sat on his desk and crossed his legs, barely able to contain his anticipation.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

* * *

I'd like to apologize for taking this story down in the first place. That was inconsiderate of me to do.

(My reason was that I felt that this story focused too much on sex and fetishization and not enough on actual emotional connections, so it felt kind of uncomfortable to have it up on my story list. But I kind of regret taking it down, since a story's a story, even if the writer's views have changed.)


	2. Chapter 2: Inundate

**Inundate** ( _verb_ ): to overwhelm (someone) with things or people to be dealt with.

* * *

 _That man…_

The trip back to E-Class's mountain seemed longer and more arduous than usual to Karasuma. His mind was filled with thoughts of Asano—his abrupt invitation, his sultry smile, their almost-kiss… The raven-haired man didn't know what to make of it all, and his head hurt just thinking about what happened just a few minutes before.

The Chairman of Kunugigaoka had an odd way of flirting—no, that was outright sexual harassment—but something about it left Karasuma's hands twitching with excitement.

It pissed him off.

Sure, he was attracted to men.

Sure, Asano was attractive, for his age. Very attractive.

In fact, had circumstances been different, Karasuma wouldn't have minded being straddled by the guy—

 _Fuck_.

Karasuma was a _professional_ , damn it, and he had a mission to help his students save the world. The mission, the kids, Irina, and the target always came before everything else—they came before his life, and they certainly came before his sex life, which was nonexistent to begin with.

Even if the target was killed come March, he would still have a job—one that would require his complete and undivided attention—there were missions to embark on and people to fight. His role in the Ministry of Defense was always putting him in dangerous positions, and having a relationship on the side would be too distracting.

Especially if said relationship was with _that_ man, who seemed to get off on making Karasuma suffer.

Besides, Asano only wanted what he could offer him in bed, and that wasn't the type of relationship Karasuma was looking for—or, at least, that wasn't the type of relationship his family would approve of.

Personally, he wouldn't mind having someone to have sex with, and nothing else.

Despite his family's nagging, he had no desire to settle down and get married, sexual orientation aside.

Karasuma opened the door to 3-E's building, his mind immediately focusing on the task at hand. On the mountain campus, he was an agent of the Ministry of Defense and Class 3-E's physical education teacher—nothing more, nothing less.

 _Class should be starting soon._

As if on cue, a sonic blast punctured the air and rippled through the treetops, signaling the arrival of the assassination target.

The raven-haired man opened the door to the staff lounge, listening to the tentacled teacher as he began to take attendance in the room next door. Irina was already seated at her desk, poring over a lesson plan for third-period English.

As soon as he walked in, the blonde looked up, her eyes brightening.

"Nice day today, isn't it, Karasuma?"

He nodded his head in greeting. "Irina. Good morning."

The other flirt in his life bestowed upon him a radiant smile, setting her papers aside in favor of propping her head up on her hands. "How was your meeting with the boss? He didn't try to demolish you with an excavator, did he?"

"It was…" He struggled to find an appropriate word for the mess that had just exploded in his face. "… the usual."

The usual, aside from the flirting; Karasuma wasn't an idiot—he'd noticed the guy had checking him out many times before, although the older man made no effort to hide it. Technically, the sexual harassment began after the meeting had ended.

"Doesn't sound like it was." Irina looked both suspicious and playfully intrigued. "Don't tell me he's planning another assassination for the octopus."

"No."

Karasuma frowned.

Irina was an expert in flirting, right? Her entire career was built around her skills in seduction and infiltration. Surely, she had some experience in dealing with relationships and the advances of a member of the same gender.

"He told me that after all this is over, he'd like to ask me out," Karasuma said, hanging up his coat on one of the hooks on the wall.

The blonde teacher blinked once, twice. Then, she started laughing.

"That's pretty funny, Karasuma! You actually got me there for a sec!"

After standing in the same spot for a solid half a minute or so, listening to his coworker make fun of him, he silently made his way to his desk and sat down, feeling incredibly stupid for thinking that his fellow teacher would take his statement seriously.

"Oh, wait." Irina's blue eyes widened, and her smile disappeared. "You're serious."

"Do I look like the type to tell jokes?"

"But can you blame me?" she asked. "You _are_ talking about _that_ chairman, right? Mr. Education-Crazed-Brainwashing-Status-Quo Chairman who's as much a workaholic as you are, if not more? He really asked you out?"

Karasuma nodded.

"W-Well?" she inquired, after a long silence.

 _Shit_. Too late, he realized that he shouldn't have said anything. He should have considered his fellow teacher's feelings beforehand.

"'Well,' what?" He opened his laptop. The motion was routine, but this time, the device felt a lot heavier and less relenting than usual, almost as if the gravity of his current situation was playing out in real life.

A finger pressed down on the power button, and the screen lit up.

"Did you…"

… _say yes?_ Her question assembled itself way too easily in Karasuma's head, and the tone of her voice brought back bad memories of red roses and guilt. If there was anything he didn't want to do to Irina, it was to hurt her again.

"No," Karasuma said, typing in his computer password. "I didn't."

"Did you say no?"

His fingers froze, hovering over the keyboard. That was the question he'd been hoping to avoid.

"… No."

He was almost afraid to look up—afraid of the expression he'd see on his coworker's face—but he did it anyway, with hardly a moment's hesitation. Her gaze were fixed on a pile of papers in front of her, slender hands darting out to deftly gather them into a neat stack.

"Irina…"

"It's okay, if you want to accept," she said finally, meeting his eyes evenly. "Your life, your decision. I get it. If this… if _he's_ what you want… I don't want to hold you back, or anything."

It was just like the conversation they had at the island resort, on that one summer afternoon, when she asked him if he knew what it meant to kill.

Her expression was one that showed that she was incredibly mature, for her age, and Karasuma was once again shocked by the sheer intensity of those blue eyes—they were like the sky during a lightning storm, brewing with conflict, yet steady.

He always forgot this fact, because of her appearance and mannerisms, but had Irina Jelavić been raised in a normal environment, she would still be in _college_ , probably freaking out over exams and boys and normal college stuff.

Not assassination. She had been forced to grow up too quickly.

A forced laugh, courtesy of Irina herself, interrupted his thoughts, as if she was trying to fill in the void left by his silence. "I've always wondered why my womanly charms never worked on you! Now I know."

"So! Does our lovely boss have any charms of his own?" she asked, leaning forward.

Karasuma shrugged. "You two seem to be pretty similar in your flirting methods."

"Really? That's _weird_."

It would take some time, but he knew that she would recover.

 _She's more than strong enough._

Suddenly, a familiar yellow blob appeared in the corner of his eye.

"Nurufufufu… what's this about weird flirting methods I hear?"

* * *

He just barely managed to catch Asano's attention as the black car, driven by his chauffeur, began to pull out of the almost-empty parking lot.

"Ah, Karasuma-sensei!" The older man rolled down the window, the orange glare of the setting sun illuminating his face as he grinned in his usual smug manner. "I was worried that you were going to leave me without an answer!"

Beside him, his son frowned, glancing between the two of them suspiciously.

Karasuma took a deep breath.

"About your offer…"

Still smiling, Asano linked his fingers together and sat back in his seat. Karasuma thought that his expression faltered for a split second, flickering to one that seemed almost nervous. Belatedly, he realized that he probably shouldn't have brought this up in Gakushuu's presence.

He would just have to make it sound as obscure as possible.

"I accept."

"Well, then!" Gakuhou said, his smile widening in a way that Karasuma would have considered creepy had he not known him. He looked genuinely pleased, but then again, why wouldn't he be, since he had just been promised sex? "I look forward to our next meeting—"

Impulsively, Karasuma stopped him. "Wait."

"Hm?"

"I have one condition."

It was something that he had thought of on the spot, and something that his conversations with Irina that day had inspired. He wasn't going to let himself be used for sex, although, in all honesty, he had been hypocritically planning to use Asano in the same way.

Asano raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. "And what would that be?"

He raised three fingers. "We have to go on at least three dates before we get to the bedroom."

"Interesting," the other said with a chuckle. "Very well. Three dates."

"Wait." Gakushuu's eyes were wide with shock as he gestured wildly at his father and Karasuma. "You're g—"

Asano doubled over with laughter, ignoring his red-faced son's flustered questions and accusations. His laugh was one befitting such a dignified man—deep and hearty and mellow. It was a rather calming sound to listen to.

Karasuma's day had been full of firsts, but privately, he thought that this was the most pleasant one. He couldn't help but smile as Asano reached over to place a hand on Gakushuu's shoulder, rocking back and forth in mirth as he teased his only son.

"Why are you blushing, Asano-kun? Don't tell me I need to educate you on this subject."

"Shut up."

Finally, his laughter died down, and he turned to Karasuma. "My apologies. I'll see you next month, Karasuma-sensei."

"Of course," he said, nodding respectfully.

Suddenly, they were employer and employee again, all professionalism.

But that professionalism, though natural for Karasuma, seemed almost foreign now.

As the car pulled out of the parking lot, he briefly wondered what kind of situation he had gotten himself into.


	3. Chapter 3: Date

**Date** ( _verb_ ): to go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested).

* * *

 _"About your offer… I accept."_

Karasuma's words played in his head, over and over again.

It was almost May, and Gakuhou had yet to hear a single word from the raven-haired man since the graduation ceremony in March, only days after Korosensei's death at the hands of his students. The violet-eyed man felt the dull ache of loss in his chest at the reminder, regretting losing such an outstanding rival, although the E-Class most definitely grieved more than he did for their teacher.

At least his fellow educator was happier now, wherever he may be.

The rest of the month was hectic—after being vilified in the media for allowing the monster who destroyed the moon to teach at his school, Gakuhou had been forced to resign as Kunugigaoka Academy's principal. His E-Class system was abolished. Many of his political connections had severed their ties, afraid to be associated with him.

Over ten years of hard work. Gone in less than a week.

Not like he hadn't seen it coming. He had been planning for such an event since Karasuma showed up at his office with the wanted poster.

He sipped his third cup of coffee, flipping through a copy of _The New York Times_.

The buzz over Korosensei's death was gradually beginning to die down, it seemed, but every single newspaper still featured at least one article about it.

Soon, he'd be able to go out job-hunting without being swarmed by news reporters and journalists the moment he set foot outside. If he heard "Is it true that the monster that destroyed the moon was a yellow octopus?" one more time, he was going to throw someone.

In the meantime, he would have to entertain himself within the confines of his house.

It was eleven o'clock on a Wednesday morning, and there was absolutely nothing to do but to lounge around the empty kitchen, reading.

And reading.

He turned the page.

 _Ah. A crossword._

It was finished in less than a minute—English was such a simple language.

And back to reading.

Sighing, the auburn-haired man closed the newspaper and tossed it on top of the pile of _other_ newspapers that he had been skimming over since nine o'clock. It was strange to him to be so idle and unproductive. There were always meetings to hold, appointments to attend, and paperwork to file.

Unemployment.

How dreadfully boring.

Fortunately, his investments were more than enough to compensate for his lack of a job.

Gakuhou strode into the living room and made himself comfortable on the sofa, mug in hand. On the coffee table was a stack of British sign language books, one of which he had just started reading when, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

 _Another reporter?_ Gakuhou wondered. Sighing irritably, he set his mug and book on the side table, then picked up his phone to check the security cameras.

What he saw made him smirk.

After disabling the gate lock, he got to his feet and made for the door, combing a hand through unkempt auburn hair and glancing at his reflection in the mirror in the hallway.

 _Presentable_.

He opened the door.

Karasuma was climbing up the steps outside, clad in slacks and a blue shirt, holding a small bouquet of violets, irises, and white roses.

"Good morning," he said, stopping in front of the door.

Gakuhou leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "You brought flowers? Just yourself would have been fine, Karasuma-san."

"I had to bring _something_. Here." Karasuma pushed the bouquet at him, his expression unreadable.

Gakuhou accepted the gift—he had never been one for flowers, but he appreciated the effort the other man made to get them for him.

"Thank you. They're lovely."

They stood in silence for a few moments—it was neither awkward nor comfortable.

Karasuma looked older than the last time they saw each other, he noticed, although it had only been a month and a half. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent. Of course, being the representative who supervised Class 3-E's assassination classroom on the behalf of the Ministry of Defense, he had most likely been dealing with the media mess and paperwork after the conclusion of the mission.

Perhaps he'd been given a day off.

"It's been a while, Asano-san." Surprisingly, the younger man was the first to speak, his voice steady and calm. "You look well."

"And you look tired," Gakuhou said. "Come in."

There was a moment of hesitation before Karasuma nodded. "If it's not any trouble."

"Of course not." He stepped back and allowed his visitor into the entrance hall. "The guest slippers are over there."

An affirmative grunt. Gakuhou couldn't help but pause at the door for a moment, watching the raven-haired man bend over slightly to pull off his shoes.

"I can feel you looking at my ass," Karasuma said, quickly turning around in a manner that was almost comical. He looked like he was going to yell at him, but composed himself. Gakuhou wondered if the man was used to being checked out, and remembered, with remote amusement, that he used to work with Jelavić.

"Sorry."

The other man half-glared at him, as if asking, _Are you really?_

"It's nice," he pointed out, hardly bothering to hide his smile.

"I didn't need to hear that."

Grinning inwardly at the alleviated tension, he walked into the sitting room, his guest on his heels. "Make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

Shaking his head, Karasuma sat on the sofa. "No, thank you."

"Well, then. Excuse me for a minute while I put these in some water." Gakuhou proceeded to the kitchen and rummaged around the cupboards for a glass vase.

Showing up unannounced at someone else's house with a bouquet of flowers was hardly an ideal date, but then again, they couldn't possibly go outside, given Gakuhou's current reputation with the public. Keeping that in mind, a home visit was, in a way, thoughtful.

But flowers for a man… unconventional, yet charming.

He gave the vase a quick wash, filled it with water, and placed the flowers in. Upon returning to the living room, container in hand, he found Karasuma flipping through one of the books he had taken out.

"You're learning sign language?" the younger man asked.

"Just British, right now," Gakuhou said, placing the vase on the coffee table. "It's quite different from Japanese and American Sign Language. Both of which I have studied and learned, by the way."

Karasuma set the book back down, looking almost disgusted. "I don't know if I should be surprised or not."

"I am fluent in forty-one languages, including the two I just mentioned, and their writing systems. Not counting Braille and Morse Code. I try to keep the number of languages I know greater than my age."

Scrutinizing obsidian eyes met his own amethyst ones.

Gakuhou chuckled and sat on the couch opposite of his guest, crossing his legs. "Well, whether or not you choose to believe me is up to you, I suppose. One can never stop obtaining knowledge. 'Learn as though you were to live forever,' as the saying goes."

"It's always education with you," Karasuma mused. "Don't you ever just want to sleep in and do nothing for once?"

"How unproductive," the redhead scoffed. "Don't tell me that's what _you_ do in your free time."

Karasuma lifted a corner of his lips in what almost looked like a smirk. "Usually. Except for that one time I used my first day off in a month to visit my ex-boss."

The other man's smile made him look ten times more handsome than he already was. He could have been quite the addition to the dating pool, had he not been married to his job.

And it wasn't just his looks, either. His initial denial, his three-date proposal, the flowers, and the way he mentioned giving up his day off, as if it was something he regretted. The way that he was treating their relationship in general—how he was trying to normalize it when he knew that all Gakuhou wanted was sex. Why go on these dates, why waste both of their time and money doing something societally acceptable, when they could just go to the bedroom and do what they came here to do?

Come to think of it, what was Karasuma after?

The former chairman of Kunugigaoka couldn't help but smirk. It was strange, how he was beginning to take an interest—that pertained to something other than sex—in this man, who had initially seemed quite boring. Or perhaps it was his desire to stick to the conventional ways of courting that made him so interesting.

"You're choosing to spend your break with me? I'm flattered, Karasuma-san."

"Ah…" The raven-haired man scratched his cheek, seeming almost bashful. "I thought our date was long overdue."

"Well, then," Gakuhou said. "Let's make this a memorable first date, shall we?"

He stood, picking up his half-empty coffee mug. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was nearly a quarter past eleven. "It's nearly lunchtime. I'll cook something while we catch up—what do you say?"

Karasuma's face seemed to brighten.

"Yes… I'd like that."


	4. Chapter 4: Intimidate

**Intimidate** ( _verb_ ): to frighten or overawe (someone), especially in order to make them do what one wants.

* * *

" _Ten_ siblings?" Asano cocked an eyebrow. "You're joking."

Karasuma shook his head—why did people always assume that? "I wish I was. I'm the second eldest. And I was the only guy in the family, aside from my father, until about ten years ago, when my brother was born."

"Should I feel sorry for you?"

"No."

Still, the violet-eyed man gave him that pitying look they both knew Karasuma hated, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

No matter how many times he saw it, Karasuma doubted that he'll ever get used to seeing Asano with his hair down. He looked younger, looser, and much less like a douchebag. But, given that it was only their second date, there was a good chance that it was a sight he would soon accept as a normal one. And Asano would still undoubtedly be a douchebag.

"What about you?" he asked. "Any siblings?"

"No, thank goodness." Asano reclined in his seat, his legs splayed out before him. He reminded Karasuma of an older Karma Akabane, with his red hair and relaxed posture. "Growing up, it was just myself, my parents, and the maids."

"I see."

Absentmindedly, he stirred his drink. The coffee had long since lost its heat, but Karasuma didn't mind. They had been talking for quite a while, about the most random things—beef stew, British Sign Language, the red tulips that Karasuma had bought. What Class E did with the bounty. Asano's pending job interview at a local high school. Gakushuu losing the Student Council President election to a third-year. Taxes.

Their conversations were hardly boring, and if they took a turn for the dull, they barely lasted. Asano always found a way to smoothly transition into another topic, never letting Karasuma's mind wander too far. It was like he had a radar for boredom built into his head—it made sense, considering his chosen profession.

Surprisingly, he had yet to bring up the topic of sex. Which was a good thing. Karasuma wasn't sure whether he could stomach the topic if it came up, especially with that insufferably sadistic face Asano always made whenever he teased the younger man.

By the time he realized that the time to leave had long since past, the sun had already begun to set, casting its faint orange rays over the floor.

To him, it seemed as if it were flashing a warning sign.

Sure enough, the second he stood up from the couch, muttering his thanks, Asano held up a hand.

"Wait. I almost forgot to give you something."

He was handed a heavy sheaf of papers. It must've been at least thirty pages long, held together with a binder clip. "Since our third date is coming up soon, please fill this out before you leave."

Karasuma blinked. "What is this?"

"It's a little quiz I put together. For sexual preferences and such."

" _Guh!_ " After making a rather embarrassing sound, Karasuma dropped the packet, which, he had just noticed, was appropriately titled _The Complete Sex Survey (with illustrations)_. His face felt like it was on fire. To make things even stranger, Asano actually looked proud of himself for typing up thirty damn pages of fucking _crap_.

Times like this reminded him that his ex-boss was kind of a psychopath.

"N-No!"

Strange, how Asano could make him lose his composure so easily.

The redhead gestured downwards with a finger, as if prompting Karasuma to pick the papers up from the floor. The scenario felt very much like a master trying to command his dog, and, although he was very fond of dogs, Karasuma did _not_ appreciate that. "But the final page is very important! It's a consent form!"

"No," he deadpanned, moving back several steps. "I'm not touching… _that_."

Not with a ten-meter stick. He'd sooner toss his entire stock of cup ramen to the street and pay the fine for littering.

"Fine. I'll read it to you, and you'll answer verbally." Ignoring Karasuma's stammered rejections, Asano bent down, scooped the packet up, and began reading out loud. From page one. "' _Name: Tadaomi Karasuma. Sex: Male_ ,' blah blah blah, let's just skip the basics… Ah. ' _Do you have any sexually transmitted infections?_ '"

"What the— _no_." He raised a finger in an attempt to silence the other, though fortunately, he managed to restrain himself from holding up the middle one, in case Asano decided to be offended or make a dirty joke out of it. "I'm not doing this."

He was never buying this guy flowers again. He didn't deserve them.

Asshole.

"Alright, that's good. Next question." Ass-ano looked pleased with his "answer," although that was more like a response to the entire questionnaire in general.

"No."

"' _Do you prefer—_ "

"No."

"— _to use condoms_ —"

" _No_."

"— _when having sex?_ '"

"Wait!" Karasuma winced at the panicked pitch of his voice, his hands clamping over his ears—so much for being an elite soldier. "Stop!"

God, this was way worse than when Irina flirted with him.

"What is your problem?" Looking genuinely annoyed— _The feeling's mutual, you dick_ —Asano waved the packet in Karasuma's face. "This is an interview, not an exorcism."

"If you ask me, _you're_ the one who needs an exorcism!" Karasuma snapped. He massaged his aching temple with two fingers, hoping that not all of their dates would end with him suffering from a migraine. "Who the hell makes a thirty-page exam and holds an interview for _sex_? Do you do this with everyone you date?"

"I…" Asano hesitated.

"… No. It's been a while." He seemed confused, staring at the packet in his hands as if he didn't quite know what to do with it. The sight was almost sad. Maybe he'd been focused on being a teacher for so long that he'd forgotten how to be anything else. After all, his whole world revolved around education.

"I can see that," Karasuma sighed, feeling his annoyance ebb away a little. "Let's just take it slow for now, okay? I'll tell you whatever you want to know when we get to it."

"Of course…" Asano carefully shifted the packet to his other arm, moving slowly and deliberately, as if contemplating something. "I… apologize for my… immaturity. My excitement got the best of me, I suppose."

"Yeah."

"And I apologize if my jokes seem too cruel. Feel free to tell me if I go too far."

Karasuma nodded, finding solace in that statement.

"It's fine," he said, crossing his arms. His mind wandered to a certain classroom and a certain yellow octopus on a mountain. "I can take a bit of teasing."

The redhead shrugged nonchalantly. "I only tease you because you seem to get embarrassed very easily when it comes to these things. Come to think of it, how long has it been since _you've_ done it with anyone, Karasuma-san? Or, perhaps…"

He leaned in, his lips curving in that smug smirk that made Karasuma want to punch him in his perfect face.

The soldier was stuck somewhere between anger and embarrassment. At the moment, Asano was so close that he could make out the faint silver streaks in his amethyst eyes, just barely visible through thick, dark lashes. The smell of coffee and Asano's cologne wafted over him, strong yet faint, familiar yet foreign.

For what seemed like the longest time, neither spoke.

His gut instinct told him that now was the perfect time to kiss the guy. Asano probably wanted it, too, since he'd stopped talking—was he expecting _Karasuma_ to initiate? He leaned in, hesitantly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his body temperature skyrocketing. Everything seemed to slow down.

All he could see was an expanse of muted violet.

Just a little closer…

Then, Asano opened his big mouth. And it wasn't even in a good way.

"You've never had sex with anyone, have you?"

No, forget kissing. He was going to knee him in the crotch.

The raven-haired man shook his head in the negative, to both his impulsive desires and to Asano's inquiry, trying not to grit his teeth too obviously. Honestly, was this guy as dense as Karasuma or was he just being a jerk?

"Never."

"I see."

As expected, Asano's view of him seemed to shift… in the opposite direction of where Karasuma thought it would go. For a split second, the redhead's smile faltered a bit, and if the soldier hadn't such keen eyesight, he would have missed it.

Trying to push down a pang of self-consciousness, Karasuma asked, "What's wrong?"

He'd never thought his lack of experience would matter much—Asano seemed pretty capable of leading—so he didn't give it quite as much thought as he probably should have.

"Nothing."

Unconvinced, he frowned, feeling a twinge of discomfort upon realizing the other man's close proximity. "Then why are you making that face?"

"Oh, this? This is my normal face."

"No. Your normal face usually makes me want to throw you out of a second-story window."

Laughing, Asano stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. "You flatterer."

When Karasuma affixed him with a monotonous stare, the redhead cleared his throat. "While I'm hardly surprised that you're a virgin, I have to say, I was hoping that you were just a prude. I like my men experienced."

He lifted up the damn packet with one hand. "If you fill out the survey, this would be much easier—"

"No, and if you shove that thing in my face one more time, Asano, I will burn it."

The mood whiplash he experienced around the guy made Karasuma feel sick. He didn't know how to feel about it—how, in the span of two minutes, Asano had managed to successfully fluster, anger, and seduce the soldier. Dating him was turning out to be a completely different experience from being his employee-slash-ATM. Karasuma didn't think it possible, but he was actually capable of being even more infuriating.

It was like riding a badly-built emotional rollercoaster.

And Karasuma absolutely despised rollercoasters.

Well, Asano was a rather attractive, for a rollercoaster, _and_ he could make a really good beef stew. Keeping those things in mind, there was hope for him yet.

"Oh, and by the way, the survey's forty-five pages long. Your guess was off by fifteen."

 _I want to castrate this guy._


	5. Chapter 5: Accommodate

**Accommodate** ( _verb_ ): to fit in with the wishes or needs of.

* * *

Gakuhou was carefully stacking a bunch of food containers into a plastic bag for Karasuma to take home—the man ate nothing but fast food and cup ramen, how _awful_ —when he heard the front door open. Both he and the raven-haired man glanced up as Gakushuu casually strode into the kitchen, dropping his bag on the tiled floor and making a beeline for the fridge.

"Why, Vice President-kun, aren't you home early. This is Karasuma—"

"I know," Gakushuu said irritably as he pulled out a pack of Yakult—for some reason, he was addicted to the stuff. "He was 3-E's teacher last year. And please don't call me that."

Taking his son's rude interruption in stride, Gakuhou smirked. "Why not? You _are_ the vice president of Kunugigaoka High School's Student Council, after all. It's your proper title. If you'd tried harder, you _might_ have been president."

Ever since his loss in the Student Council Election two weeks before, Gakushuu had been more tense than usual, his patience stretched tight and taut like a guitar string. Gakuhou had a feeling that the teenager blamed _him_ for it, at least partially, although the idea was ludicrous. He had nothing to do with the election, although he knew that Gakushuu's opponent—Hanamaru Sanjou, a rather popular third year who'd reigned as president since her second year of middle school—was obsessed with impressing him.

His son stormed away, his bag and fermented milk in hand. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "If you were less 'cool' and 'awesome,' I _would_ have been president."

"Did he just say…?" Karasuma's features were scrunched up in confusion.

"Oh, don't pay him any mind," Gakuhou said, calmly placing the last container of curry into the bag. "He's just frustrated that he lost to a certain third-year again. Did you know that the same thing happened in his first year of middle school?"

"You know the only reason she keeps beating me is so that she can get _your_ attention," Gakushuu growled from the top of the stairs.

"That's not my fault—it's yours for being incompetent."

Honestly, his son was so immature sometimes.

Gakuhou handed Karasuma the food. "Here are the leftovers, Karasuma-san. Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?"

"No, thank you." The younger man's eyes gleamed appreciatively as he took the plastic bag. "This is enough."

"Will I see you next week?" he asked, escorting his guest to the front door.

Karasuma nodded, stepping into his shoes. When he looked up, his cheeks were tinged pink, although his face was as stoic as ever. "I'll call you."

"Would you like to take the survey with y—"

Wordlessly, Karasuma opened the door and walked out.

Gakuhou smirked. The man was too _easy_.

* * *

It used to be that breakfast was the only meal the Asano father and son duo shared—and even then, they hardly spoke—but since his resignation, Gakuhou couldn't see why they shouldn't eat dinner together, as well. It was far more efficient in that there were less instances to have to reheat the food, and the dishes could be washed in one go.

And then, of course, there was the opportunity to harass his son.

At first, Gakushuu rejected his invitations and tried to avoid him, making excuses and holing up in his room like the rebellious teenager he was, only eating just before midnight (an unhealthy habit—Gakuhou did not raise his son to contract a chronic disease). But after a few nights of leaving a tray of food in front of his door, he became much more compliant. He eventually began coming down to the joint kitchen and dining room to eat—apparently, letting the food get cold was a waste.

It was like luring an animal.

"I tried making my own spice blend," Gakuhou said. "How is it?"

Gakushuu swallowed a spoonful of curry and rice and immediately went for another, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. "It's not terrible."

"Oh, and you can do better?" Gakuhou asked. He knew that his son would take the bait—the boy never turned down a challenge.

As expected, Gakushuu looked up from his food so quickly that his face blurred for a split second, violet eyes blazing with the flames of petty competitiveness. "Is that a challenge? My scores in Home Economics are perfect."

"It's your worst class. After Ethics."

"At least I'm not a bored housewife."

Gakuhou refused to give his son the satisfaction by responding to the insult. Besides, he only cooked. And cleaned. And tended the garden. Because of his recent bouts of restlessness, Gakuhou had all but fired their maid in favor of doing the housework himself—she did the laundry once a week and went grocery shopping on a near-daily basis, but that was it.

But Gakushuu didn't need to know that.

"Is that why you're going out with E-Class's teacher?" the teenager asked. "To alleviate your boredom?"

The older Asano paused, taking a bite of the curry. Boredom wasn't exactly the word he would use. Perhaps sexual frustration and curiosity was more like it, though he'd never say so in front of his son. Gakushuu would probably throw a fork at his face.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. All this… it's weird."

 _To see your father dating someone, you mean?_ But Gakuhou could sense something else—distrust. And how could he not feel that? There was a new person to factor into his plans, and his life. Depending on how it goes, they might end up living under the same roof.

Not that Gakuhou cared about what his son thought about his personal life.

"He's a good man," he said. "Try not to chase him away."

Gakushuu snorted as he reached for the serving ladle and poured more curry onto his plate. "I don't really care about who he is and how you feel about him, as long as you two don't get in the way of my studies."

"It will never come to that," Gakuhou assured him. "But remember that if, for _any_ reason, your grades start slipping—"

"I'll stay on top. I still have to defeat you, after all."

Sometimes, his son was petty, idealistic, and easily angered. Other times, he reminded him of himself—competitive, calculating and stubborn. Chairman or not, it was reassuring to know that Gakuhou was still doing something truly worthwhile—raising a son.

He smiled.

"Keep dreaming, Asano-kun."

* * *

As Gakuhou rinsed the last plate, he spied Gakushuu out of the corner of his eye, clutching a piece of paper and glaring at him. Perhaps it was a permission slip for something and he needed to get it signed. Or perhaps he and Akabane finally tried to kill each other and ended up destroying a classroom.

"Do you need anything, Asano-kun?"

Almost robotically, the teenager strode forward, paper in hand, and held it out for Gakuhou to take. The older Asano raised an eyebrow quizzically and wiped his hands on his pants before taking the offered sheet of paper.

It was a blank planner for the entire month, with a few days marked with neon yellow.

"I assume that since you are dating someone, you'll be… uh…" He grimaced. "… _copulating_. Probably here."

"That's none of your business," Gakuhou said, slowly. There could only be one place this was heading to, and he wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "But… yes. We will most likely be spending a lot of time in my room."

Gakushuu took a deep breath, looking like he wanted to commit _seppuku_. "I have several tests I have to study for, including the midterms that are coming up next month. So, I've highlighted the nights that I'm permitting you to have sex in this house. This way, I can study without you giving me nightmares, and you two can do… _whatever_ … without me filling up your room with tear gas."

 _Interesting way to put it._

"Huh." He skimmed over the planner. "This is quite impressive, but completely unnecessary. We won't disturb you."

"No," Gakushuu said, shaking his head. "Don't think I don't remember the nights when you and Mom locked yourselves in your room to do 'adult stuff.' I mean, I could hear you even though your room is two doors down from mine. This house is anything but soundproof, and _you specifically_ are anything but quiet."

"You were three."

"And scarred for life. If I ever hear you scream 'Please, fuck me!' again, I'm going to sue for emotional trauma. _Again_."

Gakuhou felt his eye twitch.

How was he supposed to respond to that?

* * *

bonus

* * *

Gakushuu's hands uncertainly hovered over the buttons and dials. Beside him, on the counter, were several containers of spices, beef, and vegetables—cleaned, peeled and cut—ready to be thrown into a pot.

There was only one problem.

Gakuhou leaned over his son's shoulder.

"Do you need help turning on the stove, Asano-kun?"

The teenager scowled at him, his face coloring in the most amusing way. " _No_."


	6. Chapter 6: Update

**Update** ( _verb_ ): to give (someone) the latest information about something.

* * *

"You can't come here today."

Karasuma blinked and brought his phone closer to his ear, wondering if he'd misheard, which he highly doubted he did. "What?"

"Asano-kun is having some friends over for a last-minute study session later," Asano explained. "I thought it would be best if they could have the whole house to themselves. Is it alright if I come over there, instead?"

 _Crap_. Karasuma glanced around his living room, which was hardly ready for visitors. And his fridge was empty, save for a container of Asano's leftover curry—which he was saving for a special occasion, because damn, that was good curry—and some week-old steamed buns. The only other food he had was cup ramen and uncooked rice sitting in a cupboard. Asano's place was about two hours away by train, and that was the fastest way to get there.

He had time.

"Sure," he replied. "I'll cook."

A chuckle of amusement. "You can cook?"

"Of course. I was in the Air Force."

"That's not really…" On the other end of the line, the older man sighed resignedly. "Alright. But if you give me cup ramen and a soggy burger—"

"I'll text you the address."

* * *

He glared at the onions, blinking back tears. It was a good thing that he had trained with lachrymatory agents. Otherwise, he'd be in the bathroom, flushing out his eyeballs.

 _How do people do this on a daily basis?_

Hamburger steak was way out of his league, but for some reason he was hell-bent on impressing Asano.

The only thing he had actually tried cooking was an omelet, and even then, he could never quite get the shape right and always ended up making scrambled eggs, instead. All he could think was, _Wow, this is going to end well._

As soon as the first burger landed on the pan, his cellphone started ringing, blaring out a tune not unlike the ones used during an army march. The target—no, Korosensei—had changed his ringtone to mess with him, but he never had the heart (nor the time) to change it back to its default tone. Karasuma picked up the phone and, seeing the contact name, put it on speaker, keeping an eye on the pan.

"This is an emergency." For once, Asano sounded impatient, and if Karasuma hadn't known any better, he'd think that there was something wrong. "I'm at a drugstore. What size condom do you wear?"

 _Oh, God, not this again._ He resisted the urge to massage his temple.

"How am I supposed to know? I've never used one."

"Fine. Do you have a ruler?"

He groaned. "I'm hanging up."

"But this is important!"

"I told you, I'm clean."

"And I told you before, that's not how it works! Do you not know how much bacteria—"

Knowing full well that Asano was going to lecture him, Karasuma said, "Not this again. Just get a one-size-fits-all, damnit."

 _Huh. He hung up._

* * *

The familiar buzz hailed the arrival of his guest.

Quickly wiping his hands on a dishcloth, Karasuma hurried to the entrance hall, not even bothering to put on slippers. The tile flooring was cool under his bare feet. He opened the door. Asano was standing at a distance that was way too close for comfort. Stifling an exclamation of surprise, Karasuma took a step back.

"Good evening," Asano said, smirking and holding out an expensive-looking melon with both hands. "I come bearing gifts."

"Gifts?" He had a bad feeling about this.

"Yes. This melon. Some lubricant. Condoms—I'm still unsure as to how big you are, so I just bought a box for every size."

Karasuma remembered explicitly saying that he was a one-size-fits-all kind of guy (although he didn't really know his size for sure), but knowing Asano, he'd lecture him on the importance of proper condom sizing and go off on a tangent about bacteria and rectal fissures and urinary tract infections. And he wasn't in the mood for that.

"Ah!" He dug around in the overnight bag he brought and pulled out a tall bottle of amber liquid. "And some bourbon!"

Something told Karasuma that Asano really, really liked alcohol.

"… Thanks. Come in."

Asano walked past him, taking off his shoes at the foyer and proceeding into the hallway.

"Something smells delicious."

Slowly, Karasuma shut the door behind him. He'd been ready for this day. He'd been preparing himself, mentally. For fuck's sake, he even went on the Internet to glean at least a bit of information about what he was supposed to expect. But now that he was here, now that _Asano_ was here, now that it was today, he couldn't stop himself from feeling anxious. He was afraid. What if he couldn't live up to Asano's expectations? What if he messed up? What if he hurt him? And a selfish part of him thought, _What if he left me?_

What if he woke up the next day, alone?

Sex was all Asano seemed to be after. And Karasuma had promised to give it to him tonight. What would happen then?

He may be dense, but he wasn't naïve. He never should have gone through with that three-date proposal. He never should have said yes in the first place. If he was just going to be used for his body, then it would be better if he hardly knew the guy. Attachments just got in the way, and made things complicated. Led to mistakes. Caused pain. No military training regimen could cure that.

Rationally. Logically. Efficiently. That was the way Karasuma was supposed to work. That was the way Asano was supposed to work. They were supposed to dedicate themselves to their jobs. And that _was_ how it used to be.

What the hell were they doing here?

 _Fucking_ idiot _. Why did I even_ want _to—_

"Karasuma." Asano's voice broke through the haze of doubt and fear in his mind. "Are you alright?"

He realized that he was still standing in the entrance hall, with one hand squeezing the doorknob as if it was about to yank it out. He withdrew his hand quickly, letting it hang at his side. His fingers twitched. He wanted to break something.

"If you'd like to postpone getting into bed together, I don't mind." Asano sounded almost concerned, and although Karasuma was confident in his skills as a human lie detector, when it came to Asano, he couldn't tell whether he was sincere or just trying to get on his good graces. After all, Asano was the perfect superhuman, always learning, always evolving, always adapting. He could very well be the perfect liar, too.

Karasuma shook his head. "It's fine."

It wasn't, but he had no intention of admitting it, not even for a second.

* * *

Asano criticized three things about the food, which was honestly about a hundred things less than Karasuma was expecting. The older man was animatedly going on about different ways to cook hamburger, and as enlightening as it was to hear about things he'd never do, Karasuma was only half-listening, distracted by Asano's face. It was irritating, how he hardly changed his expression. He was like a robot. Or a professional poker player. Karasuma had gone up against both (and won).

He nodded absentmindedly as he "listened," even throwing in a "That's nice" for good measure as he drank his bourbon. The sweet, smoky taste flooded his tongue, and upon emptying his glass, he reached for bottle on the coffee table and poured himself some more. He didn't drink much, but he wasn't about to turn down free liquor. Especially free _good_ liquor.

Alcohol was a welcome distraction.

"You're not paying attention, are you?"

He felt like a student being scolded for dozing off in front of his entire class (which had happened to him far too often for his liking during his childhood). He hurriedly composed himself, pretending to have been inspecting the remaining melon slices on the table. "I am."

The redhead raised a brow, taking a sip of his liquor. A bemused half-smile formed on his lips. "Really? I just asked you to give me a vasectomy using your fork and a match."

Karasuma said nothing.

"Is there something on your mind that you'd like to share?"

When given a guarded look in response, the older man smirked. "Shall I try to guess? Hm… I see!" He snapped his fingers in faux triumph. "You're afraid that I'll just use you for sex and that I'll leave when I get tired of you."

As amusing as Asano's little act was, Karasuma found that it hardly lifted his mood. "That obvious, huh?"

"Oh, no; your poker face is quite splendid. But fortunately, I have more than a fair amount of experience in this area."

"Do tell."

Anything to change the topic.

"Well." Asano leaned back into the couch cushions. "I grew up with a strict, overbearing father, so I decided to go abroad for college. I became drunk on my own freedom and spent my first two years doing whatever my father never wanted me to do. I extorted alcohol from my seniors even though I was underage, got stoned, went to parties, and slept with more people than I made friends with."

"So… you were a delinquent."

"I graduated with the highest grade point average in the history of Harvard, but sure, call me whatever you like."

"You're so perfect it's disgusting."

"My point is," Asano said, sidestepping Karasuma's attempt to bait him, "that you're hardly the first to think that I'm only using you for the sex. You don't trust me, and I understand that. You're starting to regret saying yes to me back in January, because, unfortunately, you've developed feelings for me and you're afraid that I'll throw them back in your face."

" _Someone's_ confident," Karasuma said. However, Asano had hit the nail right on the head, the cunning bastard.

The older man chuckled. "Indeed."

He never said that he _wouldn't_ throw Karasuma's feelings back in his face, but the implication was there. Or, at least, he hoped that it was. Asano wasn't the type to spew out cheesy confessions, and neither was he. For now, that was enough for him.

A slow, creeping warmth spread through his body.

"How did we even get here?" he muttered, reaching for his drink, only to find his tumbler empty.

In one fluid movement, Asano opened the bourbon bottle and refilled Karasuma's glass. "I was impulsive and you were sexually curious."

"I was _not_." Flustered (although he was sure it was the alcohol's fault), he took another swig of the liquor, grimacing as it burned his throat on its way down. He felt Asano's piercing eyes on him, scrutinizing, as he swirled his own tumbler, which was hanging between three fingers and a thumb in a delicate and precarious manner. Karasuma's gaze followed it: _You'd better not drop that damn glass_.

"I was just… frustrated. Whenever my parents called, they'd ask me if I'd found a woman to marry. They want me to take over as the head of the family. It's been going on since I was twenty-five, and now I'm almost thirty. They're really pissed off at me."

 _You're_ _drunk_ , he told himself. _Stop oversharing._

"So you agreed to my proposal to spite them."

"That's part of it."

Asano smirked, his eyes half-lidded in amusement. "But you still like men, right?"

"I guess." Karasuma wasn't sure. It was rare for him to be attracted to anyone at all. "I like you, at least."

 _Shut up shut up shut up shut up…_

Asano was quiet for a few seconds, sipping his bourbon. Something about their chemistry seemed to make awkward silences between them inevitable. "Forgive me for springing this on you, but would you mind if I call you by your first name from now on? I know it's late, but— _"_

"No. Go ahead." Karasuma found himself responding so quickly that it was embarrassing.

"Tadaomi," Asano said, as if to himself. His voice was barely above a whisper.

The sound of his name on the other's tongue was so… unusual. Alien, in fact. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to it yet. Maybe it was because they'd referred to each other with their surnames for so long. Well, whatever it was, Karasuma liked the way Asano said his name. His former employer was a strange man, and that strangeness was precisely what made him so alluring.

"Does this mean I can call you Gakuhou now?"

It might have been a trick of the light, or perhaps he was more intoxicated than he thought, but for the briefest moment, the silvery violet of Asano's eyes seemed to have taken on a more vibrant hue.

"Of course."


	7. Chapter 7: Fecundate

**Fecundate** ( _verb_ ): to fertilize; to make fruitful.

* * *

Gakuhou couldn't quite remember how he and Karasuma ended up making out on the couch. The only thing that he cared about at the moment was that he was straddling Karasuma and Karasuma's lips were chapped and hot and so, so _perfect._

They tasted like bourbon.

Which was probably why neither of them seemed to be thinking straight.

Karasuma's scent surrounded him—an enchanting mix of generic hair gel, soap, sweat, and, yes, alcohol.

The roar of blood pounding in his ears seemed to engulf all of the other sounds. Gakuhou combed his fingers through Karasuma's raven-black hair, which was stiff with styling gel, and found that if he kept working through the strands, it went back to a more natural silken texture. Feeling adventurous, he grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled harshly.

Karasuma's hips bucked into his. The younger man pushed back against him aggressively, growling against their kiss. In response, Gakuhou tugged at his hair again, yanking his head backwards and sliding his tongue into the other's mouth, carefully gauging for a reaction.

As expected, Karasuma's eyes shot open in complete shock. For a good few seconds, he looked like he was debating whether to pull away or not. Gakuhou moved his hips downwards, eliciting a soft groan from the soldier. Slowly, he began to relax.

Gakuhou pulled away, licking any trace drops of saliva off his own lips. "Shall we continue on a bed?"

At that, Karasuma practically dragged him up the stairs, fingers locked around his wrist like one half of a pair of handcuffs. Gakuhou was toting his overnight bag with his other hand. He was unsure as to how intoxicated the younger man was—six glasses of bourbon would be enough to bring a normal human down to a drunken stupor, but Karasuma was not normal. Since the man hadn't fallen on his face (yet), he assumed that a fair part of him was still sober. They stumbled into the first room they came across, shutting the door behind them.

Gakuhou dropped his bag on the floor and immediately went back to kissing Karasuma, slowly pushing him towards the queen-size bed. The younger man's hands were awkwardly hanging at his sides, as if he didn't know what to do with them.

His inexperience was downright _adorable_.

Suddenly, Karasuma was hiking Gakuhou's thighs up on either side of his waist until his feet were no longer touching the ground. He felt the younger man tilting, no, _falling_ , backwards. They landed on the springy mattress of the bed, teeth clacking and warm bodies pressed flush against each other.

Feeling as though all of the air had been pummeled out of his lungs, Gakuhou pulled away, heart pounding in excitement, his skin tingling with adrenaline.

 _Inexperience, indeed._

His grip on Gakuhou's thighs loosening, Karasuma looked up at him with an all-too-serious expression that would have killed the mood had he not just done something so hot.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No," Gakuhou said breathily, shaking his head. "No, be as rough as you like."

Karasuma seemed to like that idea, the spark in his dark eyes almost manically violent.

Not even two seconds later, Gakuhou was planting kisses on Karasuma's neck as he undid the buttons on the other's shirt. With a grip that was sure to leave bruises, the raven-haired man grabbed Gakuhou's hips, all hesitation thrown out the window, and pulled them downwards to grind against them.

An embarrassing whimper of discomfort and pleasure pushed past his lips in the form of the other's name, " _Tadaomi_ …"

As if spurred by the sound, the black-haired man took one hand off Gakuhou's hips and reached around to give his ass a hard, possessive squeeze. Gakuhou broke their kiss to nip at Karasuma's neck. The raven-haired man growled in response before vindictively sinking his teeth into Gakuhou's shoulder like he was trying to devour it—shit, that really hurt. He really was taking the rough thing to heart. There wasn't a single ounce of gentleness in his actions.

But damn, did it feel _good_ to be ravaged.

Gakuhou was in for his second surprise of the night—one that he still couldn't quite wrap his mind around. The moment flashed by insanely quickly, and before he knew it, his shirt was open, although he had no recollection of it ever being undone. Then, he heard a strange sound, like…

Like plastic buttons hitting a hardwood floor.

 _Well_.

The redhead froze in shock, looking down to meet the raven-haired man's eyes, which gleamed with an emotion akin to hunger. Impatiently, Karasuma shifted his hips, his brows furrowed in confusion and his lips turned down in what had to be the most adorable pout ever, although Gakuhou doubted that he knew just how attractive he looked. He was leaning in to resume his kissing frenzy when Karasuma glanced down.

Then, as if he just realized what he had done, he cursed, hands flying to cover his reddening face.

"Oh, God… I… I'm so sorry…"

And just like that, he killed the mood.

Gakuhou didn't really know why he found the sight so amusing. But he did. His lips twitched. He leaned back, clutching his abdomen as his entire body began to shake. He didn't even try to suppress the bark of laughter that pushed its way out of his throat.

"H-Hey!" Karasuma snapped indignantly. "Why are you laughing? Stop it!"

Unfortunately, he couldn't.

 _How long has it been since I laughed like this?_

"It's not funny, you smug bastard!"

He could hardly remember any instance in the last decade that made him laugh so genuinely. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the excitement of finding a sexual partner, but for the first time in a long time, he felt…

 _Alive_.

 _Damn, when did_ that _happen?_

It was funny—almost cruel, in fact—because going into this relationship, he'd thought that the only thing he'd be getting out of it was the sex. Karasuma had proven him wrong, time and time again. Proven that he was not just someone to have a good fuck with, and he definitely wasn't going to be pushed around by the older man's odd whims. Whether that was intentional or not, Gakuhou couldn't really say, but he had to admit that the other had done a splendid job of setting him up for the fall.

Letting out one last chuckle, Gakuhou wiped a tear from his eye and glanced down. Beneath him, Karasuma seemed torn between looking offended and looking… what was that expression?

 _Ah, yes._

He looked absolutely smitten.

It was an expression Gakuhou was used to seeing on his lovers, but something about Karasuma's face and… well… just _Karasuma_ in general made it look different. There were no words that could quite describe it, but he knew that the feeling was not unfamiliar. It reminded him of how he had felt about his late wife, long, long ago, before he became warped by his own ideals.

But now wasn't the time to think about such things. That was the past. This was now.

Gakuhou surprised even himself by taking Karasuma's hands into his own, kissing the scarred knuckles apologetically. Karasuma's hands were the same size as his—his fingers were just a bit shorter and thicker, marred with rough callouses and scars. "I'm sorry for laughing."

Unfamiliar with the new gesture, Karasuma frowned and glared at the headboard.

"It's fine," he muttered. "I'm sorry for ruining your shirt. I'll buy you a new one."

"There's no need—I have plenty at home." Nonchalantly, Gakuhou shrugged the shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. "Shall we continue?"

His hands made their way down Karasuma's chest, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, like they'd done to so many, many others before. It had been twelve years since he'd last been in bed with someone, and he sure as hell wasn't going to stop now.

Karasuma had taken to feeling up Gakuhou's torso, warm, calloused hands exploring the expanse of skin on his abdomen. His movements were slower now, almost reverent, and much more cautious, fingering every scar, mole, and birthmark he came across. The raven-haired man seemed fascinated with what he saw, although, in Gakuhou's opinion, there was hardly anything to be impressed about.

Karasuma's body was much more impressive.

Slender fingers ghosted over lean muscle, tracing well-defined pectorals and sculpted abs. There were scars of varying shapes and sizes here and there, and Gakuhou made sure to pay attention to every single one, tracing each faint outline with his tongue. Karasuma's body was hot and firm under his lips, tasting of sweat and buzzing with adrenaline. Everything was on overdrive, and everything he touched felt like it was charged with electricity. He was aware of every breath, every movement, every heartbeat, every muscle shifting under the other man's skin.

He was beautiful. So beautiful.

The soft gasps when he grazed over a nipple. The husky moans when he bit and sucked on a spot hard enough to leave a mark. The muted grunts when he ever so slightly moved his hips against the other's.

All of it. He wanted to hear all of it. Every single sound that Karasuma was capable of making.

It was as if he was melting away, dissolving into the heat of the moment. There was nothing else in the world but the two of them, and all Gakuhou knew was that there was a man underneath him and they both wanted to _fuck_.

Logic was but an afterthought when it came to pure, carnal desire.

Karasuma entangled his fingers in Gakuhou's hair, slowly guiding his head down, until his lips touched cool metal.

In less than three seconds, the belt was on the floor, and a quick glance upwards confirmed that the raven-haired man was getting impatient. He went back to work, his tongue skillfully coaxing the button on the slacks to become undone, and using his teeth to pull the zipper down.

Karasuma squirmed under him, fingers roughly tugging at his hair. The message was clear.

 _Hurry up._

"Calm down," Gakuhou whispered, slowly hooking his thumbs in the other's waistband.

He smirked.

"We're just getting started."


	8. Chapter 8: Gradate

**Gradate** ( _verb_ ): to change or cause to change imperceptibly, as from one color, tone, or degree to another.

* * *

The first thing that Karasuma saw when he opened his eyes was his ceiling.

It was a familiar sight, but everything else felt foreign. His room smelled damp and musky and sweaty—it wasn't an entirely pleasant nor unpleasant smell, and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. The pounding in his head was also unusual. Then he remembered that he'd consumed six glasses of bourbon the night before. A decision that he was beginning to regret.

Even stranger, of course, was the man sleeping on his chest. Completely naked, without even a blanket to cover him.

Asano was warm, which wasn't the best combination with the heat of early June, but the raven-haired man didn't want to risk waking him up. He remembered what had happened between them. And he hoped he'd never forget.

After his humiliating blunder with Asano's shirt—ugh, he wanted to forget that—things escalated quickly, as if that awkward little scene had, in a way, removed a barrier that was between them.

He remembered running his hands up and down Asano's lean body, reveling in the smooth, supple skin and just barely defined abs until he had memorized every contour, every soft and every firm place, taking note of which spots made the other shiver with wanton need and which ones made him double over chuckling. The desire to touch every single scar, mole, and birthmark that he came across was irresistible, for it was these little imperfections that made his body so perfect and so human and so _beautiful_. Asano's body was beautiful—an alluring mix of soft curves and toned muscle that left Karasuma wanting to touch every millimeter he could possibly get to.

He remembered drinking in every tantalizing movement of Asano's hips—oh, God, those lovely hips—smooth and fluid like honey. It was almost like he was dancing, tempo varying from languid and seductive to wild and ardent.

He remembered voluptuous, muscular thighs straddling him, trapping him on the bed like the jaws of a vise. Asano took complete charge, and Karasuma felt utterly useless just lying there, still trying to get the hang of kissing properly. Asano had assured him that it was fine—to let him lead, to trust him. He undoubtedly knew what he was doing. It was like a dance—a heated, messy, almost violent tango, but a dance nonetheless, of expert fingers and graceful hips, of bodies slick with sweat, of scorching hot skin, of hypnotic amethyst eyes misty and bright with the sins of greed and lust.

He remembered the moment when everything was plunged into a world of fire and pure ecstasy. There was a period that seemed unbelievably surreal in nature. All he knew was that Asano was on top of him and around him and holy fuck, he was moving, and he was so beautiful and so hot and so tight and he felt so _good_. All of his instincts were screaming at him to _move_ , and move, he did. Asano did.

He'd never felt anything like it before. He never wanted to stop— _Don't stop_ , he remembered saying, and Asano had responded with a broken moan that sent shivers down his spine because for once, the older man had nothing to say, but everything to do. Karasuma had slipped away, until he could no longer tell where he ended and where Asano began.

He remembered the bed springs squeaking and screaming under their combined weights, hardly stifling the whimpers, sighs, and salacious moans. Both voicing their pleasures in wonderful unison until their throats were raw, making sounds that Karasuma didn't even know they could make. Lost in their own bliss.

 _"Fuck!"_ He remembered Asano cursing under his breath, eyes squeezed shut in rapture as the rhythm of his hips started to become slow and uneven. It was so indescribably satisfying to watch such a proud, powerful man come undone before him, reduced to a gasping, whimpering mess.

And the first time he heard it, Karasuma decided that Asano moaning his name was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, his voice low and high, soft and loud, consonant and dissonant. Over and over again, each cry formed by his lips more incoherent than the last as the syllables melded together—a euphoric call to high heaven that Karasuma had vowed to commit to memory.

In hindsight, he was relieved that he didn't know his neighbors.

But, of course, this being the first and most crucial part of Tadaomi Karasuma's sex life, something else just _had_ to go wrong. He was probably never going to get over the embarrassment that came with finishing too quickly. Surprisingly, Asano had been nice about it, admitting that he did the same when he had sex for the first time.

Slowly, Asano shifted with a soft sigh, rolling over and away from Karasuma, nestling instead in the crook of his arm. The heat must have gotten to him, too. His skin—both of theirs, actually—was sticky with sweat and saliva and something else that the raven-haired man didn't want to think about or he'd get flustered.

"You awake?" he asked.

The redhead gave him a completely coherent "Hnngh…" and a groan, turning to face Karasuma. His eyes fluttered open groggily for a few seconds before he went back to sleep.

Funny—Karasuma had taken him for a morning person. Maybe he was exhausted.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the older man sported freckles on his face and shoulders that were so faint that they may as well be invisible, especially in comparison to Asano's striking eyes (when said eyes were open, anyway) and the mottled dark bruises on his skin from their rough session the night before.

Freckles.

They were nice.

* * *

Karasuma laid there for what felt like hours, quietly picking the crud out of his eyes and devising a plan for his next date with Asano. Finally, the older man stirred, rolling onto his back with a sigh that quickly turned into a yawn.

"Morning," Karasuma muttered.

"Good morning." A groggy, tuneless hum filled the pause after his greeting, and he turned his head towards Karasuma again—some hair was stuck to his cheek and forehead, and Karasuma wanted to laugh at the sight. "How long have you been up?"

"About an hour, I think."

"That so? You should've woken me up…"

"Nah. You looked like you needed some rest." He flexed his hand. "Can you get off my arm now? I can't feel my fingers."

"Sorry." Asano quickly sat up, untangled his legs from Karasuma's, and swung them over the edge of the bed. As a relief it was to feel blood circulating in his left arm again, and to feel cool air, Karasuma couldn't help but feel a bit disconcerted at the loss of the other's body heat.

A soft moan—one that sounded quite erotic—came from the direction of his bedmate. "Everything hurts…"

Now that he thought about it, all he did was hurt Asano, like an animal marking its territory. It scared him how his tendency towards violence followed him even to the bedroom, although, strangely, the redhead seemed to like it. Was he a masochist or something? His personality just screamed sadist, but then again, maybe people's preferences were different in bed.

Did he expect an apology?

"I'm… sorry?"

Asano cast a glance over his shoulder at Karasuma, looking puzzled. "That's hardly something to apologize for. I was the one who told you to be as rough as you like. You did great. It's just that… it's been a while."

Karasuma scoffed. "You're kidding. I didn't do anything."

" _Clearly_ , you did." The first word was punctuated with a nigh-inaudible grunt as the older man shakily stood up and stretched his arms upwards—Karasuma's gaze was immediately drawn to the bruises on… well, almost everywhere, which made him feel a strange sense of pride and guilt. Asano turned around, and his expression flickered to one of worry. "Should I have let you do more? Didn't… didn't you like it?"

"N-No, it was amazing." Karasuma thought privately that that was a severe understatement. " _You_ were amazing."

 _But, next time, I want to make you feel good._

"Oh?" Asano flashed him a challenging, uncharacteristically playful grin, showing a hint of white teeth. "I look forward to it."

 _Crap, I said that out loud._

"May I take a shower?"

"Uh, sure." Karasuma gestured to the door. "Down the hall, first door on your left. The towels are on the top shelf."

"Thank you."

There was no way this guy was in his forties, was what Karasuma thought as his eyes followed the sloping outline of Asano's departing figure, his gait limited by a slight limp. He would have been an outstanding soldier, had he joined the military. He was athletic. From his broad shoulders and toned arms to the subtle protrusion of his hipbone… okay, the examination was no longer a professional one.

As if he could tell what Karasuma was thinking, Asano turned around with a coquettish smile. "Would you like to join me?"

"No, thanks." Embarrassed at being caught staring, Karasuma averted his eyes, his face burning.

A shrug. "Your loss."

It wasn't until he heard the door close that he realized that he regretted declining the offer. The very idea of Asano in the shower made him feel incredibly…

Excited.

Hoping for a distraction, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and began to clean, picking up the clothes— _Calm down, it's just another guy's underwear_ —and pillows that were strewn all over the floor. After finding all of the buttons from Asano's ruined shirt, which took a while, he placed them on his desk, reminding himself to return them to their owner.

Asano returned just as he finished changing the bedsheets, hair dripping and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist—a sight that Karasuma welcomed openly. He proceeded to his overnight bag on the floor across the room, and, very gingerly, crouched down, which elicited a soft, drawn-out "Owww" from his lips. He pulled out a bundle of clothes and a white plastic bag.

Out of curiosity, Karasuma bent down and examined the contents of the bag. He inwardly grimaced.

"For all the worrying you did, we didn't even use these," Karasuma muttered, dumping out a half dozen unopened boxes of condoms onto the floor.

Asano groaned and hung his head, which made Karasuma chuckle. "If I get a urinary tract infection, you're making me dinner."

"That's cute," the redhead grumbled, standing up and placing his clothes on the dresser.

Then, a thought hit him.

"Hey." Karasuma grabbed his shoulder. "What are we?"

Lovers? Boyfriends? Partners? Fuck buddies—no, that was ridiculous. But he had no idea what to call Asano, and, being a creature of order, not having a name to their relationship was unsettling at best.

"Ah," the older man grinned cheekily. "You're my concubine."

"I'm serious, you ass."

" _Rude_." Hands on his hips, Asano glanced at the ceiling contemplatively. "Hmph. Well, I don't particularly care which term you use to refer to us."

"What would you call me?"

"Tadaomi."

"But what am I to you?"

"Mine." Asano said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're mine."

Both amused and a bit honored, Karasuma felt his lips twitch in a split-second grin, and hoped that Asano—that single-minded, stubborn bastard—didn't notice. Then, Asano unwrapped the towel from around his waist, gave his hair one last rub, and picked up a fresh shirt.

"As amazing as you look half-naked," he suddenly said, "you should take a shower and get dressed."

"Huh?"

"It's not often that I come to the big city, especially Shinjuku. Let's go sightseeing and stop somewhere for lunch. My treat."

Karasuma grinned.

"Alright. I know some good places."


	9. Chapter 9: Denudate

**Denudate** ( _verb_ ): to lay bare.

* * *

An earsplitting, high-pitched scream wasn't exactly the best thing to wake up to. Neither was the feeling of someone's elbow hitting the side of his head. Before he could even register what was happening, much less react to the sudden attack, Gakuhou found himself pinned to the couch, face-down, by something warm and heavy.

"Get down!"

It took him about four seconds to recognize the voice as Karasuma's, to recognize the soft click of a gun next to his ear.

 _A break-in?_

The scream intensified to the point of being painful to listen to. It was immediately joined by a chorus of shrieks and an indignant, well-placed "What the _fuck_?"

His thoughts exactly.

"Happy early birthday?" a feeble voice, probably belonging to a teenage girl, squeaked.

The next speaker, while also female, sounded older. "What are you doing, Tadaomi?"

"Sayuri?" Slowly, cautiously, Karasuma sat up. Which only served to shift 85 kilograms of muscle, blood, and last night's lasagna onto the small of the Gakuhou's back—a fact that he didn't have the patience nor the bone density to appreciate. A faint, sharp noise indicated that his raven-haired companion had turned the safety of his gun back on. Despite his obvious familiarity with the intruders, he sounded like he would've preferred an encounter with some burglars instead. "Is that you?"

"Yes!" the woman named Sayuri snapped. "You told me you had work today!"

Rather belatedly, Gakuhou recognized the name as one that Karasuma had brought up in passing—she was one of his younger sisters. Judging from the date (the Sunday before Karasuma's birthday) and the number of exclusively female voices, these were his sisters. Five of them.

And at once, he understood Karasuma's agitation.

It wouldn't be good if they found out that he was a man. Karasuma had informed him that his parents weren't the most liberal, and passed their sentiments onto most of their children. Gakuhou could identify with that—his own father was quite homophobic and never hesitated to show it, which was why entering Harvard was like passing through the gates of Heaven.

So, he concluded, it wouldn't be in Karasuma's—nor Gakuhou's, for that matter—best interest to come out from under the blanket. He would have to bear the crushing weight of his lover's body without uttering a single complaint. Damn his stupid, bulky, attractive muscles.

Not to mention that, at the moment, he was completely in the nude.

"Who's that?" Sayuri demanded. "And why are you _naked_?"

"I have no obligation to tell you anything." Gakuhou felt Karasuma pushing him further into the sofa cushions. Thick fingers wrapped themselves around his bicep, as if warning him not to move, although he was certain that it only made the situation look all the more suspicious. Additionally, he was already quite sore from their little session the night before. His lover's knee digging into his back was not helping matters at all.

 _Don't complain. Don't complain. Don't complain._

A gasp. "Oh, my God, did you just have sex on your couch?"

"That's fucking _gross_."

"Watch your language, Shion."

"I really liked that couch…"

"How did you get in here?" Karasuma asked, the evenness of his tone just barely concealing his rage. As much as he was trying to hide it, Gakuhou had never heard him sound so angry, although that probably only made up one percent of his current emotions. The rest was nineteen percent morning drowsiness and eighty percent pure, unadulterated panic.

"I had your key duplicated," Sayuri said bluntly.

" _What?_ " His careful composure shattered. Karasuma hopped off Gakuhou's back with a soft pat on the rump ( _really_ , now) and a whispered "Stay low"—presumably, he was going to put on some pants. "I never gave you permission to do that! If you weren't my sister, I'd press charges for illegal entry!"

"It was my idea," one of the teenagers said. "I'm sorry!"

Karasuma sighed. "Ren…"

Gakuhou peeked under the blanket, squeezing his eyes shut upon discovering that the curtains had been pushed open, flooding the room with sunlight. Green spots danced in his vision. Blinking blearily, he managed to focus on Karasuma's dark figure, outlined by the sun's golden rays, as the raven-haired man slipped into the nearest pair of sweatpants, which Gakuhou recognized as his own. He couldn't see any of his companion's unexpected guests, but he assumed that they were all clustered at the entrance of the living room.

He wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here he was, the former chairman of Kunugigaoka Academy, hiding under a blanket in his boyfriend's living room, even though it was apparent that they'll find out about him before the hour was over. Honestly, Karasuma was deluding himself if he thought he could keep this up.

"But we wouldn't have been able to throw you a surprise party otherwise!"

"I'm thirty years old, damnit!" Karasuma crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I'm too old for surprise parties!"

"No one's too old for surprise parties!"

"Except for me!"

 _I feel like I'm watching a_ _sitcom_ , Gakuhou thought. _From the best possible vantage point._ Oh, he couldn't _wait_ to see what Karasuma was going to come up with to get out of this one, that was for sure.

Shion let out a short bark of laughter. "Dude, forget that! Who're you screwing?"

"Nobody!"

"Oh, Mom's gonna _flip_ when she hears about this! It's about time you got married!"

Sayuri sniffled. "Ah, I'm gonna cry! You're finally ready to take over as the family head!"

"When's the wedding? When's the baby coming?"

Gakuhou thanked his lucky stars that his psychotic father never decided to have another child. Siblings seemed terrible, but psychotic siblings would be the worst. Despite being someone who took pride in his ideals and accomplishments, he did not want to have himself as a brother.

"Don't tell anyone about this," Karasuma growled, his voice dangerously low. "There's no wedding. There's _definitely_ no baby. And I'm _not_ taking over as the head. Now, get out, all of you. And give me that spare key before I press charges."

Ren completely missed the point. That, or she was just plain spiteful. "… So who's the lucky lady?"

Cold air hit his foot as a corner of the blanket was lifted.

"You can't see!" Karasuma snapped, lunging forward to yank the blanket back over him. Unfortunately, in doing so, he'd practically jumped on top of Gakuhou. Yet again, his back bore the brunt of the raven-haired man's weight, and by some cruel miracle, Karasuma's knee had lodged itself in the sorest, most sensitive, most uncomfortable place possible.

Okay. Done. He was _done_.

"This is getting ridiculous," Gakuhou groaned, shoving Karasuma off him and sitting upright. The younger man fell to the floor with a dismembered curse and a subtle _thud_ , having landed on his feet. "Try as you might, you can't hope to keep this from your family forever, and they're obviously not leaving until you give them answers."

"Gakuhou!"

There were—as he'd counted—five women in the living room with him and Karasuma. Two of whom looked identical. Twins.

Sayuri gasped, adjusting her thick-framed glasses, as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes. "T-That's a _man_!"

A young wisp of a woman with long black hair, standing next to Sayuri, averted her eyes bashfully, and Gakuhou vaguely remembered not wearing anything. Well. At least the blanket covered all of the important parts. He raised a hand up to push his hair out of his face.

"Told you he was gay." The teenager with the bleached-blond hair—Shion—smirked and cast a glance over her shoulder at the twins, who were watching the scene unfold in horror. "That'll be 14,500 yen."

" _Damn it_ ," they muttered in unison. Grumbling, the two began to pull several crumpled bills out of their pockets and bags, sending dark glares the blonde's way every now and again, and ill-naturedly shoved the cash into the hand she extended towards them.

"Wait," Karasuma said, struggling to look like he had some semblance of control over the situation. He stepped closer to Gakuhou and threw out an arm, as if he was trying to hide him. "It's not what it looks like."

 _Wow_.

"Oh, really! It _looks_ like you skipped out on a family get-together to…" Flustered, Sayuri gestured at Gakuhou wildly and wordlessly for a few seconds, an action that he couldn't help but take offense to. "… to _fool around_ with a man! You know, Mom and Dad and Takashi… everyone else was really looking forward to seeing you again!"

"Everyone else was really looking forward to pressuring me into getting married," Karasuma pointed out, scowling, "like they've been doing for the past five years."

He glanced behind him at Gakuhou, their gazes meeting for a split second, and Gakuhou thought that he saw a flash of anger in Karasuma's eyes—was that anger directed at him?—before the raven-haired man whipped his head back around. "Also, you weren't complaining when you thought he was a woman."

"Well, _yeah_! Because… because…"

"Because I have a penis?" Gakuhou interjected dryly.

"Yes!" Grinning widely, Sayuri snapped her fingers, her bracelets jingling loudly. Gakuhou would have found the _eureka_ moment amusing, had the situation not been so… bad. "Yes! Exactly! Wow, _thanks_ , naked gay man!"

"I'm bisexual."

"That's great," she said, waving dismissively. "Anyway, Tadaomi, I know this great therapist—"

"Homosexuality is not a disorder nor a disease," Gakuhou said evenly. Bigotry was not hard to find, especially in conservative families like Karasuma's, which didn't make it any easier to deal with. He was used to being looked at as if he were a piece of dirt, or worse, as if he were a charity case. They did that a lot in America. In Japan, too, but they were usually more polite about it. He didn't care what others had to say about his sexuality, but obviously, Karasuma did, and he'd be damned if he didn't try to defend him. "Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Because this isn't _normal_! And stop interrupting me! This is none of your business!"

"On the contrary," he replied, raising an eyebrow, "I happen to have been the one who pulled him into this relationship—"

Sayuri's frustrated expression morphed into one of pure fury. "So it was _your_ fault that he became so messed up!"

" _There is nothing wrong with him._ " By now, Gakuhou had half a mind to brainwash this woman into agreeing with him, but he didn't think that Karasuma would appreciate him subjecting his sister's brain to such trauma.

"Stop," Karasuma demanded. "Let's all calm down."

" _I'm_ calm," one of the twins muttered petulantly.

"Listen, Sayuri," he said, rubbing his temples. "I appreciate your concern, but I don't need it."

Sayuri folded her arms, a look of hurt and confusion flitting across her face. "I'm sorry for being rude, okay? I… I'm just trying to help."

"That's not necessary." He planted his hands on her shoulders and said, firmly, "I'm happy as I am now, and if you love me, you'd be happy for me, too." His back was turned to Gakuhou, so he couldn't see his expression, but the raven-haired man's voice rang with finality, and somehow, that made his heart feel just a bit lighter.

"But—"

"I'm _happy_."

His sister heaved a conflicted sigh, and said nothing for what felt like an eternity. "I'm still not okay with this."

"I don't expect you to be."

"What will Mom and Dad say?"

"I'll deal with them."

"Okay, good." She sighed. After a few seconds, she reached up to tap Karasuma's wrists with the tips of her fingers, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Now get your hands off me. I don't know where they've been."

"Oh. Sure."

"Let's start cooking, girls."

"What," Karasuma stated dumbly as he watched his younger sisters file into the kitchen, hauling a number of bags and coolers. There were at least ten—two per girl, bulging with food and even cooking utensils. They obviously didn't trust Karasuma with a kitchen.

"Well, we came all this way with a ton of food," Sayuri replied. "Might as well make it. You and your… boyfriend… should go take a shower and get changed."

"Asano." Gakuhou couldn't help but smile when Karasuma said his name. The raven-haired man stepped back, patted his shoulder, and urged him to stand up. He complied, gathering the blanket around his waist. "This is my younger sister, Sayuri."

"I'm Gakuhou Asano," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Sayuri's grin looked somewhat forced, but at least she was making an effort. "You, too."

"Gakuhou Asano?" The twins popped back into the room, their eyes bright with excitement. The redhead sat back down on the couch warily. He knew where this was going. "As in, the guy who let the moon monster teach at his school?"

"Oh, my God! Tell us about it!"

"Tadaomi said it was confidential information," Sayuri said in a reprimanding manner. "Don't pry."

"Sayuri, you buzzkill."

"I am _not!_ "

As he watched his younger sisters bicker, Karasuma's expression softened. The cushion sagged on one side as he made himself comfortable next to Gakuhou on the couch, their shoulders just barely touching. "This is your fault, you know," he said with a noncommittal sigh. He placed a hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I just thought I'd return the favor from when you shoved your knee in my ass."

"That was an accident, and you know it," Karasuma retorted. Then, he rested his head on Gakuhou's shoulder, letting out yet another breath, the dark tips of his hair tickling the older man's nose and enveloping him in the familiar scent of sweat and hair gel. He was so warm…

"Thanks," Karasuma said, "for defending me."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Karasuma's sisters' visit proved to be quite the learning experience. The raven-haired man himself didn't appreciate stories of his childhood exploits being passed around the room like _hors d'oeuvres_ , but it was worth it—he was rather cute when flustered. He was much more docile and easygoing around his sisters, almost like a real brother (albeit a bit awkward), but still maintained some distance that reminded Gakuhou of his own relationship with his son.

Although she was still rather tense around him, Sayuri shared some interesting cooking tips with Gakuhou as she helped prepare the food, and accepted his input with politeness, while the twins and Shion negotiated the terms of their bet, which the losing party had yet to pay in full.

They ended up staying until well into the afternoon, until everyone's bellies were full of good food, and until everyone's spirits were high with somewhat-good cheer and camaraderie.

"Alright, everyone," Sayuri said. "We're leaving."

" _Already_?" the twins, Ran and Ren, whined, tearing their eyes away from the TV.

"Yes, it's Monday tomorrow. You have this thing called _school_."

"Ugh! But school's so boring!" Ran—who was shorter than her twin, despite being older—groaned, hefting herself out of the armchair that she and Ren had been occupying for over an hour. She glanced at Gakuhou. "No offense, Asano."

"None taken." As an educator, he was used to hearing this. Kids will be kids.

Fujiko, the long-haired girl who barely said anything since her arrival, bowed her head and mumbled, "Thanks for having us."

After several minutes of prodding (Sayuri), nagging (Sayuri), and complaining (the twins), all five of Karasuma's sisters were out of the house. Gakuhou managed a polite wave as they left, while Karasuma stood on the doorstep sulkily, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets.

"Your sisters are interesting."

"More like annoying," Karasuma said with a scoff. But those words were hollow.

"You're going to miss them, aren't you?" When Gakuhou didn't receive an answer, he continued, striding back into the living room with Karasuma right on his heels—funny, he felt a strange sense of déjà vu. It was like their first date. "It must have been nice, growing up with siblings. They may be annoying, but at the very least you were never lonely."

"Were _you_?" Karasuma asked. He seated himself on the couch, spreading his legs apart and looking up at Gakuhou with a genuinely curious expression. "Lonely, that is."

Gakuhou paused for a good few seconds, glancing briefly at his lover's crotch and forgetting the question entirely. Was he trying to seduce him? Because it was working. Karasuma was far more attractive than he was willing to give himself credit for.

 _No. Don't give in_.

"I should be going." He turned around.

"Wait." Still firmly planted on the couch, Karasuma reached out and wrapped his muscular arms around Gakuhou's waist, effectively ensnaring him in a warm, snug ring of muscle. "Stay. I'll take the day off tomorrow."

"Tadaomi, I have work tomorrow, too, and I don't have any extra clothes—"

"Take the day off," he mumbled, his mouth moving against the small of Gakuhou's back. He could feel every syllable that the younger man uttered through his shirt. "You can wear some of my stuff. Besides, you didn't get me a birthday present."

Gakuhou rolled his eyes. "Wasn't last night enough, you greedy idiot?"

"No." Karasuma's hold on his waist tightened, and he pulled Gakuhou into his lap, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. Each breath was hot and damp against the soft, sensitive skin there. In a pace so slow it was almost agonizing, he marked a trail of kisses to the curve of Gakuhou's shoulder, nudging the stiff collar and thin fabric of his shirt out of the way with his lips. He gently wedged a knee in between the redhead's legs, and as an afterthought, he wondered when the raven-haired man got so good at seducing him.

" _Stay with me_."

The low rumble of his voice and the sheer _need_ in his words was enough to make Gakuhou shiver.

That man knew how to play him.

"Fine."

Why not sate his temptation?


	10. Chapter 10: Liquidate

**Liquidate** ( _verb_ ): to eliminate, typically by violent means; to kill.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Gakushuu said.

Despite his words, at the moment, he looked the picture of insincerity.

"Me, too." Karasuma was quite confused as to what exactly they were apologizing for, but Gakushuu's face made it clear that there was no time for an explanation and that he had to play along.

The atmosphere in the room was grim.

"'I accept your apologies,'" Asano said snidely, the expression on his handsome face a mix between a scowl and a sarcastic smirk. He began to pace in front of them, slowly, deliberately, almost lazily, and Karasuma held his breath in anticipation of the incoming shitstorm courtesy of one Gakuhou Asano. "Or so I would _like_ to say, had this not been a repeat offense."

He held up two slender fingers. "Twice before, you two have gone against me, and twice before, I had the kindness not to say anything about your crimes. You especially, Asano-kun, should know better. I've _taught_ you to know better."

Karasuma and Gakushuu exchanged a look.

 _Here we go._

Asano took a deep breath, bringing his fingers up to circle a temple and placing his free hand on his hip. "I spend my hard-earned money buying ice-cream for the three of us to share—"

The teenager snorted. "That's a lie. You made at least a million a day when you were jobless— _ow_."

Asano had smacked his son on the head with a hardcover copy of _The Missionary Position_.

"—and you always eat virtually all of it before I do. What's worse is that you leave a trace amount of ice-cream at the bottom of each container so that you could have an excuse to keep them in the freezer. Because you're both too _lazy_ to wash them yourselves and deposit them in the proper bin."

"… Is it the red one?" Gakushuu asked.

That earned him another hit.

"No, you privileged brat."

Karasuma wanted to point out that Asano was being irrational and making mountains out of molehills, but he had no desire to be on the receiving end of that book. He himself ate like, half the ice-cream, because Gakushuu had told him that it was fine (but he wasn't blaming him at all, no!). He knew from experience that Asano wasn't just superhuman when it came to intelligence—he could pack quite a punch, too. So, he said nothing.

"I hope you're both happy." Asano stopped pacing, stopping in front of his son. "In one week, you have consumed all ten cups—almost five liters—of _Happy-san's Limited Edition Fruit Salad Surprise Ice-Cream_. Which sounds like a terrible flavor, I know."

Gakushuu shrugged dismissively, and at that moment, Karasuma was certain that being infuriatingly smug ran in the family. "It was actually quite delicious—"

" _Well_ , I will never truly find out, because the last day of sale was the day before yesterday."

It was all Karasuma could do to not laugh (or roll his eyes, either way was fine) at how serious his lover was acting. Over ice-cream. In the middle of January. What topped it off was how cute it was. Asano thought that he was being scary. Unable to help himself, he cracked a smile.

 _He's so petty._

As if he'd read Karasuma's mind, Asano turned on his heel and strode out of the room with a huff that was hardly dignified.

The raven-haired man turned to Gakushuu. "What was that?"

"My father likes ice-cream more than he'd admit," Gakushuu said coolly, crossing his arms over his chest in a self-satisfactory manner. You never would have thought that he had just gotten chewed out and hit on the head with a cardboard-bound controversial essay. Twice. "He's never hit me on purpose, though. I wonder if he's going through andropause…"

His violet gaze flickered to Karasuma, scrutinizing. The hue of his eyes was brighter than his father's, but he was undoubtedly Asano's son, right down to the shape of his eyes and the curve of his jaw. It was almost unnerving how similar they looked. Maybe Asano's genes were completely dominant, despite the rarity of such an eye color. That wouldn't surprise him at all.

"Maybe your violent tendencies are rubbing off on him."

"I am not violent."

Gakushuu placed a hand under his chin and grimaced. "Hm. The noises you two make in the bedroom suggest otherwise."

"Well." Embarrassed, Karasuma cleared his throat. "You actually _like_ making him mad?"

"Of course," the orange-haired teenager's face twisted into an expression that was almost dementedly mischievous, although obviously, he caught Karasuma's all-too-transparent attempt to change the subject. "Anger clouds the mind and makes it so easy to control that it's almost laughable. He was the one who taught me that."

"He taught you well, then," Karasuma admitted. "So… what are you trying to make him do?"

"Oh, no—I'm not trying to control him right _now_. This is just fun."

Karasuma sighed.

Leave it to Asano to raise a psychopath.

* * *

If Karasuma could describe Asano with one word, it would have to be stunning. Not only was he physically attractive, with his striking eyes and sharp features—the man undoubtedly had foreign blood in him—but he had a certain air of regality and strength that immediately drew attention when he entered a room, as if he were a king. It was in the way he walked and the way he talked and the way the very sound of his voice turned heads towards him. It was in every movement, every blink, and every time he clenched his jaw whenever something displeased him. It was something alluring and attractive, but quite off-putting at the same time.

Sovereignty.

It wasn't at all unlike the aura of bloodlust exuded by the soldiers, killers, and assassins that Karasuma had encountered. He had no doubt that Asano could be just as deadly as them, if he wanted to be.

And right now, Asano really fucking wanted his ice-cream. Although his expression didn't give anything away, his aura was terrifyingly intense. So it was no surprise when every head in the coffee shop turned to look at them as they strode through the glass door.

The day had been pretty warm, for winter, so the place wasn't totally empty. It was actually bustling. Most of the customers that he could see were sipping coffee or tea, or digging into a sandwich, but a couple of them were feasting on the parfaits that the café was famous for. Gakushuu had suggested they go, having heard about it from school, and after Karasuma promised to pay for everything as an apology (a decision that he regretted immediately), Asano agreed to come. The drive from the house was an endeavor in itself, since the father-son duo never stopped verbally assaulting each other.

When their waiter came up to seat them, Karasuma felt his muscles tense. It had only been a year since they'd last seen each other, so Karasuma was easily able to place a name to his dark hair and golden eyes.

"Welcome to—uh…"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Isogai," Gakushuu said. He looked and sounded neither friendly nor contemptuous—Karasuma wondered if he knew that the former 3-E student worked here. It was unlikely, since he wouldn't have wanted anyone he knew to see him third-wheeling one of his father's dates. "I do hope that you're not going against your new school's policies by taking on a part-time job."

"Don't worry, I'm not," Isogai said good-naturedly. His uneasy expression had quickly shifted into a pleasant one after casting a confused, curious glance at Karasuma. He was a regular waiter serving customers now. "Welcome to Amaimon's! Let me take you to your table."

Isogai led them through an opening to the right and into the extension of the café, which was far larger than the main eating area. The wallpaper was a dark shade of brown, which balanced the natural light let in by the enormous windows that covered the side facing the street. Black and white abstract paintings and potted plants were placed at intervals around the room.

It was funny, how the neutral colors made the red, green, and blue spots pop out like warning signs.

Gakushuu's face spasmed, for the briefest moment, in disgust.

" _Vice-President-kun_ ," Karma Akabane drawled, stretching each syllable out. "I didn't expect to see _you_ here!"

 _Crap._

The red-haired demon of 3-E was slouched on his chair over a half-finished glass of what looked like strawberry milk, completely unperturbed by Gakushuu's seething violet gaze. Seated at the table with him were Nagisa and Kayano. Karma hadn't changed in appearance, but Nagisa had undergone a drastic change. Or maybe it was just the hair. It had been cut short, no longer in the pigtails that Karasuma had gotten used to seeing it in. Likewise, the once-vivid green of Kayano's hair, which was now kept loose and wavy, was fading, and her natural dark roots had begun to show.

Kayano's brow furrowed. "With your father… and Karasuma-sensei?"

"It's a long story," Karasuma muttered as he settled into the booth that Isogai had led them to, which happened to be right across from his former students' table. Asano slid into the bench in front of him, and Gakushuu followed, shooting a piercing glare at Karma, who only flashed a mischievous smirk back. Looking like he wanted nothing to do with what was to come, Isogai gave them their menus, briefly relayed the specials, took their drink orders, and was gone.

"Can we hear it?" Kayano asked. "The story, that is."

"No."

"Aww." The green-haired girl pouted.

Karasuma could feel his former students' curious glances trained on his face, like sniper scopes on a target. Like their late octopus teacher, they were all too eager when it came to juicy gossip. He skimmed over the menu, trying to take his mind off the fact that he had run into not one, but _four_ of his former students in the span of two minutes. He hoped that there wouldn't be more. He would rather not make his sexual orientation and current partner a subject of gossip in 3-E's social circle. It was likely that the trio didn't suspect that this was a date… but what else did it look like?

Well, if he didn't confirm it, they'd never believe it. He just had to keep his mouth shut. The problem resided in whether or not the two redheads he came here with would keep _their_ mouths shut. An unlikely possibility. They both liked talking. Asano in particular, on top of talking, liked torturing Karasuma.

"What are you three doing here?" he heard Gakushuu ask the group at the table across from them. It almost seemed out of character, until Karasuma remembered that the teenager's only other possible conversations would be with his father and him.

"Just thought we'd hang out," Kayano said cheerfully. "It's winter break, after all."

"We're meeting Maehara, Kataoka, Sugino, and Kanzaki after Isogai's shift is over," Nagisa added.

"The more interesting question is," Karma said, "what are _you_ doing here, VP-kun?"

Gakushuu scoffed. "Being a third wheel."

Karasuma resisted the urge to bang his own head on the table.

"Oh, do stop complaining, Asano-kun," Asano said dismissively, thumbing through the menu with false interest—Karasuma could tell that he had already decided what he was going to order, and that the cost was going to be ridiculous. "You willingly accompanied us to this fine establishment. Which _you_ suggested we go to."

Kayano gasped. "So, this is a date between Karasuma-sensei and the ex-Chairman?"

"Whoa, Karasuma-sensei!" Karma gave a low whistle, twirling a long silver spoon with his fingers. "Never took you for that type, although it does explain a lot, now that I think about it! Does Bitch-sensei know about this?"

"Yes," Karasuma muttered, shrinking under their gazes.

"Guys." Nagisa looked up from his parfait. "If Karasuma-sensei doesn't want to say anything, we shouldn't force him to."

Asano watched the scene unfold with a smile, his head propped up on his hand, which was the most relaxed that Karasuma had seen him all day, aside from when he woke up that morning. He almost looked cute, had his intentions for smiling not been so depravedly sadistic. As he glanced back towards his menu, the collar of his shirt shifted, showing just the slightest bit of purple on his neck—part of an old love bite.

Luckily, it was located on a low enough spot to still be hidden from the students.

A blush spread across Karasuma's face when he remembered how he had gotten to make that mark. It had been a stressful week for him, and they had curled up on the couch to watch Sonic Ninja, during which he put up with Asano's criticisms. Things had escalated when the end credits started rolling. Karasuma remembered every unhurried, careful moment that went into crafting that bruise—the feeling of Asano's pulse against his lips, the smell of his soap and aftershave, his groans and whimpers that were barely audible over the cheesy superhero music blaring from the TV speakers. How he was obviously in pain, but he was such a masochist that he actually enjoyed the thought of being marked.

In light of his newly resurfaced memories, Asano's neck looked incredibly tempting—Karasuma wanted to pin the man down and sink his teeth into his throat.

"Now I _really_ want to hear that story!" Kayano said.

Karma was grinning from ear to ear, his smile resembling Korosensei's default expression. He looked every bit like his late teacher, minus the yellow skin, slime, and tentacles. Oh, and the insatiable desire to flip through porn magazines. "Yeah, _tell us the story_ , Karasuma-sensei."

 _Yeah… no_.

Then, like an angel of salvation, Isogai was back with their drinks. "Have you decided on what you'll have?"

With an air of finality, Asano slid the menu over, tapping the most expensive item on the page— _of course_ —with a well-trimmed fingernail, as he directed a sly smirk towards Karasuma. "I'll have the Colossal Parfait."

"A-Are you sure?" Isogai asked, his eyebrows disappearing under his long fringe. "I'm not saying you can't finish it, sir, but—"

"Absolutely."

"It feeds six people."

"I want it."

Karasuma frowned. "I'm not helping you eat that."

"I wasn't expecting you to."

"Gakuhou, that thing costs 10,000 yen. If you don't eat it all, I _swear_ …"

Petulantly, Asano stuck his tongue out at him.

"What are you, five?"

* * *

The Colossal Parfait was… well, _colossal_.

If it was on the floor, it would have reached Karasuma's knees, no problem. There had to be at least a dozen layers of ice-cream, cookie crumbs, corn flakes, chocolate mousse, jelly, and mesmerizing swirls of vivid syrups that looked sort of like galactic nebulae, but much brighter in color. There were slices of chiffon cake, sponge cake, cheesecake, and cake rolls. There were _waffles_. The whole thing was topped with a mound of whipped cream, Pocky sticks, some grated cheese, caramel syrup, cream puffs, and a bright red cherry that was so small in comparison to everything else that it looked like it wasn't meant to be there. Adding all of that to the ridiculous amount of strategically-placed slices of peach, melon, kiwi, banana, and strawberry, it probably weighed 4 kilograms. Maybe more. Definitely more.

Karasuma's head was swarming with questions. How was nothing falling off? How long was it going to take for it to melt? Whose idea was it to put corn flakes in a parfait? And goddamnit to hell, how was that glass bowl not cracking under the weight of all that sweet, sweet _crap_?

Kayano was half out of her chair, almost drooling with desire.

There was no way Asano could eat that by himself.

He blinked. "If you need help—"

"Touch it and you'll lose a finger."

Karasuma turned his head to see his lover's expression of… pure glee? While he wasn't smiling, his silver eyes were gleaming with the eerie, unmistakable light of greed. He looked excessively giddy—almost childishly so—for someone who was about to eat something that could easily serve six people. It was kind of cute.

And, of course, Karasuma had to verbalize that sentiment.

Somehow, the only thing that came out of his mouth was the ever-so-flattering "You're going to get fat."

Not that he minded a bit of squishiness in bed, but… eh. Was that the best he could do?

"I don't recall you ever being my mother," Asano retorted, spitefully shoveling a mound of vanilla ice-cream and peach into his mouth with the provided spoon. He chewed for a few seconds, then swallowed—how did he not get a brain freeze from that? "Besides, you're not one to talk about weight gain and health in general, what with your silly fixation on cup ramen and burgers. If the perils that come with your job don't kill you, a heart attack will."

"Look who's being a mother now."

The redhead leaned forward, his eyes gleaming suggestively. His tongue flicked out to lick a smudge of white off his lips. It was so disconcertingly hot that for a second, Karasuma forgot that it was ice-cream and not something else. "Your mother wouldn't do the things I've done to you."

"You're a dick," he muttered, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"Am I now?" The bastard made no effort to lower his voice. "I never took you for the type to shy away from a little tie-and-tease, _Tadaomi_."

Asano practically purred his name, lips curled into a seductive smirk. A slender finger slowly crept up to his throat and deftly undid a button, exposing his defined clavicle. Karasuma wanted to kiss him and punch him in the face at the same time.

Had this man no shame, showing such a blatant display of promiscuity in front of a group of minors?

And was it just him, or did his former students just move _closer_?

 _You sleazy children._

They took after Korosensei, alright.

"Go eat your fucking parfait," he grumbled, taking another bite out of his sandwich. He wasn't one for sweets, so the limited sandwich selection was a relief to find. You could never go wrong with bacon.

Asano raised his spoon. "Gladly."

"And you'd better finish that."

A smarmy, complacent smile graced his lover's features. "You, of all people, should know that I always swallow."

Suddenly, the bacon didn't taste so great anymore. Karasuma put his sandwich down with an exasperated groan, not missing the implication of the innuendo nor the mixed reactions of the teenagers around them—Karma didn't even bother to stifle his snicker, while Kayano's face turned entirely red. "Did you really just say that in this room full of people? One of whom is your _son_?"

"Asano-kun is mature enough to handle that implication," Asano said, nibbling on a Pocky stick. "I have nothing to lose."

"Except for my respect," Gakushuu muttered. He looked like he was about to upchuck the spoonful of Tropic Topic Sundae that he had just consumed.

"Touché."

* * *

"I can't believe it," Karasuma found himself saying.

Asano actually finished the whole thing. The glass bowl that had, at one time, been practically overflowing with fruit, ice-cream, and pastries, had been completely emptied, down to the very last kiwi seed. The forty-two-year-old ex-chairman of Kunugigaoka Academy had just polished off a four-kilogram parfait in one sitting, with nothing to show for it but a slightly distended belly and a grin that was way too smug for Karasuma's liking. And it had hardly even been thirty minutes.

He really couldn't believe it. He wouldn't have believed it, if he hadn't witnessed the man go down on that monstrous excuse of a dessert himself—the largest pieces of fruit and cake went first, taken apart on the plate that Isogai had given him. Then, he made his way through the rest of the parfait with a quick, calculated efficiency that was almost as intimidating as seeing him seated at his desk in that dark office.

"I expected nothing less," Gakushuu said, looking impressed.

The second that last spoonful found its way into Asano's mouth, the café's customers had applauded. People took _pictures_.

Asano looked at Karasuma with a self-satisfactory, gloating grin that screamed, "I fucking told you so" in the most annoying way possible. He burped quietly into his napkin, setting his cleaned spoon to the side as if he were at a five-star restaurant. He almost looked like he wanted seconds.

Isogai quietly handed Karasuma the check.

13,000 yen.


	11. Chapter 11: Oxidate

**Oxidate** ( _verb_ ): to combine or become chemically combined with oxygen.

* * *

If there was anything that Gakuhou was certain of in his and Karasuma's relationship, it was that he loved having sex with Karasuma— _his_ Karasuma. He loved how he fucked. He loved fucking him. He loved his touch, his voice, his hands. He loved his roughness and his gentleness. He loved how he woke up the next morning to find bruises on his hips, bite marks on his neck, and a dull ache in his ass.

But did he love _Karasuma_?

He had no idea.

What was love, anyway?

It's easy to say that you loved something. It's a bit harder to say that you loved some _one_ , but did anyone really know the meaning of the word? The word "love." It's overused nowadays—so much that the meaning of it has become warped and blurred. People "love" ice-cream. People "fall in love" with someone (fictional or not) whose picture they saw on the Internet.

His lovers have said it. His parents used to say it. His son used to say it, although he was so young that he didn't remember it now, and if he did, he would never repeat it (if he did, that would warrant a trip to the doctor's office). Gakuhou himself used to say it, more times than he'd like to admit.

His wife used to say it, too, although it was only occasionally. He had to earn her "I love you"s, which was one of the things he loved about her. He remembered the many nights during which they had stayed up for hours, talking about it, even after Gakushuu had taken up residence in the nursery next door. They never did come to a conclusion, and honestly, they didn't care too much about the endpoint, only that it was an interesting and eye-opening topic.

Did he love her?

He didn't know, either.

Forty-three years of life, and he still couldn't quite define the word. Dictionaries, books, movies, online forums… nothing he found could satisfy him. As a seeker of knowledge, that was more than a little frustrating, but it was something that he had resigned himself into accepting. Some things are just best left as variables.

* * *

It was April 12, and he walked into the house to find Karasuma on the couch in the sitting room, looking uncharacteristically anxious. When he saw him, his eyes brightened in that puppy-like way that made Gakuhou feel like he couldn't breathe. He composed himself.

"So, the funniest thing happened at work toda—"

Without warning, the raven-haired man stood and captured his lips in a heated kiss. Warm fingers slid down to Gakuhou's belt, quickly unbuckling it, and yanking his pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, both articles of clothing pooling around his ankles. Then, he pushed him onto the sofa.

"I'm giving you a blowjob," Karasuma said bluntly as he knelt on the floor, his head between Gakuhou's thighs. "Then, I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow. Right on this couch."

 _Well_.

Gakuhou sighed, rolling his eyes in pretend exasperation. Karasuma had a _long_ way to go in terms of flirting—he can be a tease if he wanted to be, but the rest of the time, he was just very… straightforward. But his candor was attractive, no less. It was different. A hand went to his throat to loosen his tie and undo a button. He spread his legs, watching the other man lean in. "You're not one for surprises, are you?"

His lover looked up. "No, but happy birthday."

"Thank you."

* * *

Maybe it was the little things, like Karasuma's half smile, his laugh. The way he got excited whenever he saw a dog on the street—he was such a _child_ sometimes. The way he flexed his hands ever so slightly before he touched something, as if he were reminding himself to keep that monstrous strength of his in check. The way there was never a single dull moment when he was around. Gakuhou made jokes, of course—that he was such a square, a boring person—but they were hardly true, and he made sure that Karasuma knew that. They were both very patient, but it usually didn't take much to rile Karasuma up, when you knew the right things to say and do (flirting in public, making sexual innuendos). It was in that way that they bonded.

Sure, Karasuma talked about his job a lot, and he was usually glued to his laptop or some document, but that usually can be fixed with some social maneuvering and the much less subtle action of sitting on his lap. Whenever he did the latter, Karasuma would groan and roll his eyes—"You fucking cat"—but regardless of that, he'd drop everything in favor of some cuddling.

Whatever he did, Karasuma made Gakuhou feel like he belonged to something far greater than himself.

It was rather exciting.

He knew a lot about Karasuma, his past included, but he was well-aware that he had hardly disclosed any information about his own childhood. Which was nothing special, really. It was… common. People have gone through much worse. For example, Karasuma had grown up being called a monster for his explosive temper and superhuman strength—even by his own siblings, sometimes—until he managed to refine both attributes through military training and emotional detachment.

He was amazing.

He had flinched the first time Karasuma reached up to ruffle his hair—it was nothing but a reflex, of course, but it shocked the both of them. From that moment on Karasuma had been more careful around him.

Gakuhou hated it.

He was not made of glass.

Karasuma made him feel vulnerable, and vulnerability was not welcome in his mind. Karasuma always made him feel vulnerable. Every touch sent chills through his skin. Every embrace melted his bones. Every kiss stole his breath. The gradual depletion of the oxygen in his lungs was a intoxicating sensation—suffocation had never felt so good. Karasuma's affection was like a drug. It left him craving more. It made him emotional, unstable, and… happy.

It was terrifying.

 _Karasuma_ was terrifying, to be able to make him feel that way.

Gakuhou didn't know how to feel about it.

* * *

So, what was love?

He still had no fucking idea.

But he knew one thing. It was real. He could feel it. He just couldn't put it into words. Or thoughts, for that matter. Which was new for him. He was usually very eloquent. But maybe—just maybe—when it came to matters of the heart, eloquence and logic didn't matter.

Well, whatever love was, Tadaomi was his, and that was all that mattered.


	12. Chapter 12: Postdate

**Postdate** ( _verb_ ): to occur or come at a later date than.

* * *

"Hey. What's that?" Karasuma leaned over and examined a streak of silver nestled amongst his lover's russet locks.

"Perhaps I can answer your question if you specified where 'that' is," Asano said as he turned to him, having just finished his bowl of rice.

"Keep still." Ignoring the older man's indignant, half-hearted protest, Karasuma frowned and turned his head back around, guiding one particular area closer to where the light source illuminated it best. Yes. He wouldn't have noticed it had his eyes not been so well-trained to pick out camouflaged objects and people. But it was definitely what he thought it was. "I think… I see a white hair."

Just when he was beginning to think that Asano was somewhat immortal.

" _Excuse me_?" The violet-eyed man half-turned to him again, his features twisted into an expression of utter bewilderment. "If this is your attempt at a joke, Tadaomi—"

"I'm not kidding. Would you like me to pull it out?"

"Yes."

He carefully sifted through Asano's hair and pinched the lone silver strand in between his index finger and thumb. Then, he gently tugged at it until it came away in his grasp.

"Here," he said.

"My father's hair didn't start graying until he was well in his fifties," Asano muttered, looking a bit disappointed as he stared at the silver strand that was presented to him. He placed his bowl and chopsticks on the coffee table and promptly placed his head in Karasuma's lap with a rather dramatic sigh. He looked up, and grabbed the raven-haired man's hands, interlocking their fingers—his skin was warm and smooth against Karasuma's own rough callouses.

"I suppose I _am_ getting old."

"You're long overdue, anyway." Karasuma slowly raised a hand to ruffle the other's hair. "Let's buy some Viagra later, okay?"

"Oh, be quiet."

* * *

Karasuma had faced his homophobic parents, skilled assassins, gun-equipped dogs, deranged ex-soldiers, and an eccentric yellow octopus that moved at Mach 20. He had faced trials that made him question his morals, his drive, and his abilities. He had been in fights that had brought him teetering between his life and the end—the memories of which only visited him in his sleep, when he was closest to death.

But none of them quite compared to Gakuhou Asano, the multitalented, bisexual, and slightly psychopathic superhuman to whom he had lost his virginity.

It wasn't even that Asano was intimidating, or anything. He could be quite tame (and even submissive) if handled correctly.

No, it was something else.

They had been together for a year now, and the man was still a big, blank space.

Karasuma knew stuff. The basics. His name, his address, his birthday. He liked ice-cream, teaching, and learning. He knew almost fifty languages. He went to Harvard. He could pilot a jumbo jet. He spent more time criticizing movies than actually enjoying them. He had a son named Gakushuu. And those were all that Karasuma could list off the top of his head.

Well, the ones that didn't have anything to do with sex. His knowledge on that was far more intensive. He knew Asano's body as if it were his own. He knew where to touch. He knew which spots made him moan in ecstasy and which ones made him look up with a face that said, "Eh." He knew how to make him come fast and come hard. How to make him beg. Those were the pleasures that only Karasuma knew—pleasures that never got old and never got dull. Those were the aspects that he was familiar with. It was the basis of their bond.

The physical realm of their relationship was easy.

The emotional was a different world entirely. An undetermined variable. And if there was anything that Karasuma's training had instilled in him, it was that knowledge was power. Be wary of the unknown. Strength meant almost nothing if you went into a fight blind and dumb. That was why intel-gathering was so important.

With Asano, that advice was, to put it bluntly… rendered useless.

They both had skeletons in their closets, sure. But Asano took it to another level, safeguarding his secrets like a dragon protecting his hoard. Whenever someone got too close, he'd snap his jaws and drive them away.

There were moments when Asano would just pause for several seconds at a time, eyes fixed on some faraway thing that Karasuma couldn't hope to know or see. Sometimes, he'd feel him moving beside him in the middle of the night, tossing and turning. He'd leave the bed and only came back, hours later, after the sun had begun to rise, to tell him that breakfast was ready. What he wouldn't tell him—because they both already knew—was that he hadn't been able to sleep. Karasuma had asked him about his sleep patterns once. He'd gotten a dismissive chuckle and an idiom: "The early bird catches the worm."

He didn't think that worms woke up at 2 a.m.

There were still so many things he didn't know about Gakuhou Asano, so many things that, despite his questions, the other man refused to share. It was understandable—neither of them were much for sappy confessions. He'd learned not to ask questions, learned to wait until the other was ready. Asano had waited for him. He hadn't pried, so Karasuma wouldn't, either, even though he had a feeling that it would take a while until he spilled his secrets.

In a battle of endurance, patience was a virtue. Maybe Asano would be ready the next day. Maybe in a month. Maybe in a year. Maybe longer than that.

But that was okay.

They had time.


End file.
